


Sea-to-Sky Corridor

by knifeeyes



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: AU, Angst, Argentina Controversy, Hurt/Comfort, Jeremy/James, Leaving London, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:44:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 52,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knifeeyes/pseuds/knifeeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two days after Argentina, Jeremy gets a wake up call that changes just about everything. He watches as the most important things in his life slip though his fingers like grains of sand, including James. He truly doesn't realize what he has until it's all been stripped away, leaving him to fight to get it all back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plate

**Author's Note:**

> Once again I come bearing gifts of Jeremy/James. This time, it's gonna be a long fic. The rating will of course change as chapters get posted. As usual, I own nothing, just using them as playthings for a while. Un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine.

It was nothing more than a freakish coincidence, a string of numbers and letters that shouldn’t have meant anything taken so far out of context that they didn’t know what to believe anymore. The odds of those numbers and letters coinciding in such an order had to be one in a trillion, if not more.

They didn’t predict it would happen, they didn’t predict that anything that bad would happen. They knew they had a history of screwing things up quite spectacularly, but never to a level where their personal safety was compromised. If they genuinely knew that the plate was going to cause such a stir, they’d have burnt the cars to the ground themselves. The numbers had clearly meant something to people, and once the word got out, there was no stopping the fury of the mobs that followed them from place to place, making filming impossible.

They found themselves hiding under the rickety beds in the hotel room Andy had secured for them before they’d even left the UK. The room was dark, the curtains closed and the door shut tightly. The sound of heavy boot clad footsteps raced past the door, followed by loud voices speaking words they couldn’t understand, in harsh tones they did. In the large room were two beds, adjacent to each other, separated by a small night table. Jeremy was tucked under the bed to the right, closest to the window, with his back pressed against the wall. In front of him was James, lying on his side facing away from him, towards the door. Under the opposite bed was Richard, who was small enough to lay at the back and not be seen; especially in the dark sweater he wore.

A louder voice than all the rest was suddenly heard out of nowhere, booming down the hallway, echoing off the empty walls. This voice they could understand, for the first time in hours of being tucked under the dusty mattresses listening to angry Spanish. James shivered at the sound of his voice; the words dripping in hate being ripped from his throat.

“Where the fuck are they? Who’s seen them? Someone must have seen them! WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY, THE BRITISH BASTARDS!” Followed by a series of loud bangs that sounded scarily like gunshots from a small pistol. James shut his eyes, jumping slightly when the man in the hallway began banging on the closed doors of the rooms. The sound was getting closer, the bangs growing louder and angrier as the man in the hallway made his way towards their door. He couldn’t know where they were, nobody would have told them that they hid under the beds in the room they’d booked, did they?

His body clenched, his muscles tightening in fear as the door next to theirs was just about ripped from its hinges and thrown into the hallway. James could hear the sound of wood splintering, and imagined that’s the sound his bones would make as they broke, femurs bent and snapped, ribs crushed in. He let out a small sob.

Again he shuddered, only this time two heavy arms wrapped around his frame and tugged him back. He could feel himself begin to panic, his anxiety making his head swim, his heart beating loudly against his rib cage.If the men in the hallway didn't end up killing him, his heart would most likely just end up stopping on it's own. Taking a deep breath in, he stilled, feeling the heavy arms still clenched around him tightly, until he heard Jeremy’s voice, which in all honesty didn’t make things much better.

“It’s okay James, he won’t get in. Okay? I promise he won’t do anything to hurt you. I won’t let him.” Jeremy murmured softly in James’ ear, his breath tickling the hair at the side of his face.

James said nothing, not believing a word Jeremy was saying, not believing he was even in the position he was. “Okay? Trust me James. I’ve got you.” James nodded this time, hoping Jeremy was right.

He could hear the group of men getting closer, until they stood right outside their room, the shadows from their boots blocking out the light that shone under the door. The handle of the locked door was wrenched violently, making the door quake in its frame, the hinges groaning at the force. Two fists smashed heavily on the wood, making the room shake. Richard turned from under the bed and looked at the two men who still clung to one another. James had his eyes shut, unable to see the look of terror Richard shot Jeremy, who just blinked in return, furrowing his brow.

One of the men outside began yelling, his words indistinguishable at first, but grew clearer as he got nearer to the door, where the rest of the men must have been standing.

“Matias says he saw them leave the hotel, they were headed towards the airport!” His breathing was heavy as if he had been running, heaving panting punctuating each few words he managed to breathe out. That meant the news was obviously seen as important, and most likely just delivered. Someone was on their side out there, and knew that they needed a window to make a break for the SUV’s waiting in the lower level of the parking garage.

The men quickly evacuated the corridor, the sound of their heavy military boots on the floor echoing away, growing more faint as every step was taken.

When it was finally silent, James and Jeremy separated, the three of them crawling out from under the beds to stretch their aching limbs.

They looked at each other, eyes wide and frightened, red rings around them as contrast to the dark bags underneath. James struggled to catch his breath, each one coming short and ragged. Placing a hand on each of James' shoulders, he looked at him gently through hooded eyes.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

James hesitated for a moment, almost as if he was trying to figure out the answer for himself, before nodding his affirmation. His eyes met Jeremy’s for a brief second, looking for Jeremy's reasoning for being so comforting all of a sudden. Finding nothing hiding behind grey eyes other than a mix of fear and exhaustion, James tore his glance downwards, analyzing the scuffs on his sneakers instead of Jeremy. He mentally shook himself for reading too much into Jeremy's actions. _"He's just trying to help, nothing more. He was panicking before, that's all. Don't be a lovesick teenager, May."_

Sliding his hands off of James' shoulders, Jeremy instead gripped his forearms and pulled him in close, enough so that their noses nearly touched.

“I promise I’ll get you out of here, alright?” Jeremy rumbled softly, eyebrows raised in concern.

James nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

Richard's eyes followed the pair as Jeremy spoke in hushed tones, not missing the way Jeremy's fingers tensed into James' skin.

The sound of a phone buzzing loudly made all three men jump in the silent, dark room. Jeremy and James sprang apart as though they were caught doing something they shouldn't, both peering over to Richard who said nothing. It was Jeremy’s mobile producing the shrill sounds, as text after text came through with an urgency that they all felt, even before reading what the messages had to say. He pulled his phone out, reading each message out loud as they came through.

“The locals left, headed in vans towards the downtown. Someone told them you had made it to the airport already”

“I’ve got the vans waiting downstairs. Standby.”

“Okay, if you’re getting out of here, you’re getting out now.” James looked at Richard, who looked as if he was about to cry.

“They know I’m still with the crew, who are all still here. They’ve come back to look for us. DO NOT LEAVE THE HOTEL ROOM”

“CANT TEXT. GET DOWNSTAIRS ASAP”

No more texts came through, the sound echoing loudly in their ears in the now silent room. The seriousness of the situation, not only for them, but also for their crew members, was suddenly put into context. It wasn’t only them who were in hiding, but the rest of the people who helped make the show possible.

Jeremy turned towards the other two, looking at them expectantly.

“What?”

“You heard the man Richard, we’ve gotta go, and by the sounds of it, we’ve gotta go now.”

“We make a break for the parking garage?” Jeremy nodded. Richard looked at James, who hesitantly nodded also. “Alright…I guess now’s the time then. Do we…bring anything?”

“No, it’ll only make us more obvious. We need to run to the lift, and get downstairs. The lift goes to the garage if I remember right. We’re home free from there. I guess I’ll go first then.” Jeremy announced with the same tone a man walking towards his death might utter his final words.

The door to their hotel room was opened slowly, letting in the harsh light from outside. Their eyes, so adjusted to the dark they’d lay in for so long burned with the forced brightness of the hallway. The damage the men had made was brought sharply into focus when their eyes did the same, and they knew it was a sight they'd never forget. The doors to rooms had holes in them from boots and fists. Some were ripped off their frames completely, laying in splinters on the floor like shrapnel. What scared them the most were the small holes in the walls, perfectly round.

Jeremy led their convoy, poking his head around corners slowly checking for anyone still residing in rooms on the hotel floor. It was silent, except for their heavy breathing and the sounds the debris on the floor made when they walked over it. Jeremy beckoned for them to run after him, pressing themselves up against a wall near the elevators. He pushed the illuminated ‘down’ button, and the ding from the elevator made echoed off the empty walls in the soundless hallway.

When it arrived, they rushed in, Jeremy jamming the ‘door close’ button furiously. One they’d shut, he pushed the button that signaled the garage, and leaned back on the walls of the lift.

“What a fucking nightmare…” He murmured, more to himself than the others, scrubbing his hand across his face. James said nothing, and Richard just looked at Jeremy. “A fucking number plate, that’s all that this is about. Absolute nonsense. I’m not about to lose my life over a piece of fucking metal.”

“None of us are.” James choked out, his first words since they’d hidden in the rooms hours earlier.

The lift slowed to a stop, before the heavy silver doors opened to a dim parking garage. No cars were parked on the bottom floor, except two running SUV’s that faced the exit. The three men sprinted to the cars, opening the doors to one and piling in. The first SUV, empty, began to drive towards the exit, followed by the one they were in.

Andy was a brilliant man and Jeremy intended to tell him this when, or if, he ever saw him again. The windows of the SUV’s were tinted jet black, making it impossible to see who was in what car. The rebels had no way of knowing if the three men sat in one or the other, if they were even in either of them.

The cars had no issue leaving the hotel, driving out of a back service exit where trucks made their deliveries, and no men stood watch. The inky black Argentinian sky blanketed them in a sense of security, even though they all knew it was imaginary. Nothing was safe in this country, as long as they were all wanted men. They’d be safe when they landed in England, if they ever managed to.

Richard sat in the front seat, next to their driver, while James and Jeremy sat in the back. They were silent, except for the driver, who’d asked if they were alright when they got in. The lights from the streetlamps passing by illuminated the cabin of the car every few seconds, making the lines in their faces more visible, more prominent. The silence hung heavily among them, pressing painfully into their lungs like smoke inhaled and held for too long.

James looked out his window, wordlessly regarding the landscape as it zoomed by in the darkness. Jeremy watched him, watched the way the light poured over his hair, his shoulders, his tense body. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to take James and tell him it would be okay, and actually mean it, actually believe the words that he was saying. Instead he settled for watching him quietly out of the corner of his eye.

He sighed heavily, knowing this whole disaster would be pinned on him, regardless of it was his fault or not. He dreaded going back to the UK, going back to the media who’d inevitably hound him for answers. His head pounded the way it did when he drank too much or grew too introspective. He sighed again, feeling so out of control that it hurt to just sit there and think.

A warm hand made its way across the seat, and James’ pinkie finger wrapped around his own, squeezing gently. He looked over at James, who still stared out the window, lost in thoughts of his own.


	2. The Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some harsh language in this chapter, but that's about it.

Jeremy would be a naïve man if he didn’t admit to knowing that there would hell to pay when he finally arrived in England. He mentally braced himself on the ride to the airport, braced even more on the flight back, and by the time he’d landed with Richard and James, had his apology written word for word in his head, hearing it echo like a mantra. He knew that regardless of the fact that he had nothing to do with the controversy; he’d be blamed for it. Best to get his defences up now, then.

What he didn’t realize was the true scope of how bad it actually was.

Getting off the plane was easy enough, but the minute they stepped into the actual airport, it seemed as though every camera in England went off, flash bulbs blinding them as they struggled to get through the hallways and into the safety of their hired cars. What was even worse was the way the paparazzi spoke to them, mocking Jeremy for his insensitivity, his tactless thinking. Jeremy said nothing, keeping his eyes down and following the others as they tried to force their way to the garage. Jeremy could feel James' eyes studying him as a particularly hateful insult was thrown his way, and it was only when James' fingers moved to brush gently against his own that he stopped himself from turning and pummeling the guy.

The barrage of comments continued until they’d managed to get into the cars waiting for them, and pulled out of the airport parking garage and onto the highway. James and Richard said nothing the entire time, keeping their faces stony, expressions set. They’d all been so lost in thought that their expressions remained angry while they drove home, unaware they didn’t need to continue keeping up any appearances.

Jeremy’s stop was first, as his flat was closest to the airport. He thanked the driver, said his goodbyes to Richard and James, and stepped out of the car. He managed to get to his front steps before he sagged, all the air coming out of him. Running a hand through his hair again, he looked at his feet, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. A small cough behind him had him whipping around, in fear of a pap catching him having a moment of silent weakness.

To Jeremy’s relief, James stood behind him, small carry-on bag clutched in his hand, being blustered about slightly by the rainy London wind.

“What?” Jeremy sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before reopening them, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things from lack of sleep.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright. These last few days were…”

“Fucking shit?” Jeremy interjected. Lips pursed, James nodded. “I’m fine James, I just need a shower, some sleep and a carafe of whiskey.”

“Then let me come in and drink with you. Believe me Jez, I need it as badly as you do.”

Jeremy stared at him for a moment, James’ blue eyes pleading in silent persistence. Sighing, he turned once more and unlocked his door, leaving the door open as an invitation before stepping inside.

 

* * *

 

The sound of his mobile woke him up, and the splitting headache that hit him like a pile of bricks made him wish it hadn’t. Sitting up stiffly, he groaned as he rubbed his temples in the hopes that it would make the ache drain out from one of his ears. Finding his phone ringing shrilly on the bedside table, he blearily swiped at the screen, answering the call.

“’Ello?” he managed, voice sounding like he’d been eating gravel for the last week.

“Jeremy, it’s me. We’ve gotta talk.” Ah, Andy. Jeremy knew this call would be coming, he just didn’t know when.

“You’ve made it back then? And in one piece I presume.” Sitting up, Jeremy saw a half-asleep James now standing in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. Pulling the phone away from his face, Jeremy silently mouthed out “Andy”, to which James rolled his eyes.

“Yes, and so did the crew. Iain’s been hurt pretty badly, but he’s already been sent to A&E. I’m not kidding though Jeremy, you’re gonna need to come in today. Bring May with you, I know he’s there.”

Jeremy scoffed. “Did that little yob tell you he’d stayed over? Fucking Richard, can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“It doesn’t matter, just be here by 11.”

Jeremy promised to show up, and hung up the phone, resisting the sudden temptation to fling it at the wall.

“Andy wants to see us, says it’s something important too.”

James rolled his eyes again. “It’s always something important with him, even when it isn’t.” He tucked his hair behind his ears, yawing widely. “I’m gonna go shower and then we can get going. Make me a cuppa will you?”

Jeremy scoffed playfully. “Look at you. Using my shower, drinking my tea. What’s next, you’re gonna be sleeping in my bed?”

James stared for a moment, but said nothing; instead he turned out from the doorway and down the hall to the bathroom. Just before the door clicked shut, Jeremy heard him mumble a quiet “hopefully”, and close the door.

 

* * *

 

The drive to the BBC offices was a silent one, the only sound coming from the two men was the occasional clicks of a lighter being opened and ignited. The air that hung in the cabin of the car was heavy, as if they both knew something unfortunate was coming, but said nothing.

Jeremy’s phone vibrated where it sat in the cup holder, and he grabbed it. It was a text from Richard.

“Did Andy call you this morning?”

Jeremy typed out a “yes” before setting the phone down again. It vibrated once more, seconds later, and this time he told James to check what it said.

“Richard says he called him around 8, told him to be at the office for 11 as well. Must really be important if he needs all three of us.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes.

It being a Sunday, the roads were empty, and Jeremy made the drive from his flat to the office in a little less than forty-five minutes. When they’d arrived, James noticed Richard’s Porsche parked in the spot two over from theirs.

When they made it up to Andy’s office, Jeremy swung the door open first, and stopped in his tracks. Sitting at the large desk was of course Andy, across from him was Richard, and behind the desk were two BBC executives, sharply dressed with even sharper expressions.

Andy beckoned them in, telling them both to sit, which they did. As James was sitting, he looked over at Hammond, who looked at him with wide eyes that shot between him and Andy.

“What’s this about, then? I mean it is pretty obvious to anyone who isn’t illiterate.” Jeremy asked sharply, eyes flickering from Andy to the men in suits.

“Jeremy, this is Tony Hall and Danny Cohen.” He gestured to the men behind him. “They’ve come to tell me that the incident in Argentina is at long last considered the last straw by the BBC. We’ve been picking up the trail of debris you have a habit of leaving as of late, with all the controversy you’ve managed to stir and…”

Jeremy cut in before he could finish. “Oh come on Andy, everyone knows this wasn’t my fault. There’s no way we would have planned for something like this to happen!”

Andy continued as if Jeremy hadn’t interrupted, his voice strained. “Look, I only have so much say in this company, and when the BBC decides they don’t like something that pertains to any of us, I have to deal with it. This, unfortunately, is me doing just that.”

Jeremy looked incredulous, like a child who’d been accused of doing something they didn’t. He glanced at Richard and James, who both looked tired. They had the same panicked face, which didn’t help settle Jeremy’s suddenly quite vicious nerves, making fiery panic shoot through him. Andy cleared his throat, and moved some papers around on his desk. He was delaying something and Jeremy knew it.

“Get on with it Andy.” He snapped.

Andy sighed. “Jezza, I hate to do this but as of today you are no longer employed by the BBC. You have until 1pm to clear out your office. I don’t want to do this, you know that. I just can’t fix what’s been broken.”

Jeremy blinked, eyes wide like he’d been punched in the gut. His breathing was coming in short little huffs. Without warning he stood, so quickly that his chair was sent toppling out from under him, falling and hitting the floor loudly. He turned, heading towards the door, before stopping and looking back at Andy.

“I have made this fucking company millions! Do you know how much fucking profit Top Gear brought in? And with this little fucking scheme of yours, you’ve just waved goodbye to all of that.” He snarled, bits of spittle flinging from his lips as he spoke. “I was the face of that show, everyone here knows it, and now? Now what’s gonna happen, huh Wilman? The biggest bloody motoring show in the world is gonna hit rock bottom and you and all your little fuckhead friends in suits can say goodbye to those nice fat paychecks you’re all so used to getting.” And with that he turned out of the door, slamming it hard enough to rattle the door frame as he went.

The five men still in the room said nothing, clearly trying to process what had just happened. In hindsight, both Richard and James knew that Jeremy would react this way if something like this had ever happened, both honestly a little surprised it hadn’t been worse.

Andy stared at his stack of papers, and the two men in suits just looked peeved at having been brought into this mess, knowing what kind of man Jeremy was. It was Richard who broke the silence, shaking his head as he spoke.

“Andy, this can’t be happening. This is gonna kill him mate, you know that.”

“I do, and believe me I didn’t want to have to do it. You’re both logical men, do you really think I wanted to fire him? Of course not. I’m just following orders, and eventually Jezza will realize that.”

He stopped, turning to look at the two men still standing behind him. “Satisfied?”

They nodded.

“Good, now I need to talk to them alone.”

They left the room, leaving James and Richard alone with Andy.

“Look, this isn’t the end of Top Gear at all. We’ll figure something out, find a new presenter, or hell, even leave it at two. But for now, Jeremy is going to be on a warpath, you both should be there to contain it. We can discuss options later.”

Richard sighed as he stood. “This is fucking ridiculous Andy…”

Andy just shrugged. “I’m only doing what my bosses tell me to Richard. Believe me, I fought for him. I fought tooth and nail, but it’s hard to stand up for someone who doesn’t care about consequences.”

“Consequences? Andy, you’re the fucking producer! You know full well that you could have stopped that slope comment from airing, you could have called for it to be edited out. Same goes for any of the other stupid things Jezza’s said. So don’t go playing the victim here.”

James stood, putting his hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Let’s just go. Yelling won’t change things.” He murmured, under his breath. Richard sagged, aware that James was right. Shaking his head one last time, he left the room.

Andy looked at James with sympathy, knowing that he’d be dealing with a lot in the next few days.

“Just…try to keep an eye on Jezza, will you?” Andy asked as he was shrugging on his jacket. James let out a breathy laugh.

“You know I will Andy. Because if I don’t, who else will?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, comments and critique/suggestions are always welcome!


	3. The Bottle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up almost entirely different then I'd planned, which is alright. Words just kind of come out, and go in the direction they like, and I'm expected to follow.
> 
> Some more harsh language in this chapter.

By the time Richard and James had made it down to the parking lot, Jeremy was nowhere to be seen, his Mercedes long gone from the spot it’d been in not an hour earlier. James sighed, making Richard look over.

“What?”

“I’d gotten a ride in with Jezza…”

Richard rolled his eyes. “Did you really think he’d stick around because he drove you in mate? C’mon.”

James, pursing his lips nodded in acceptance that his thinking was slightly flawed, and instead followed Richard, who got into his own car. The inside of James’ head felt slightly as though it was a can of soda that someone had put inside a paint mixer, and then opened. He thought his worries about Argentina and the press were bad, but things were only going to get worse, and he knew it. Better begin preparing for the inevitable meltdown now, then. Jeremy was his best friend, and as much as he avoided emotions, it made him ache to see Jeremy hurting. He vowed to make it better, as best he could.

Richard cleared his throat, looking over at James, obviously wanting to talk, but not sure how to begin. James took the bait.

“What, Richard?”

“I just…I don’t want Jezza to do anything stupid.” He said, looking over at James who stared out the window at the city blurring past.

“You know he will, that’s inevitable.”

“You know what I mean, James.” At this James looked over to Richard, who had the same expression on his face that he did when he was stuck under the bed in Argentina. James couldn’t help but ache a little more at Richard’s comment, putting a new, equally as nagging worry in the back of his mind. Jeremy wouldn’t do that, would he? Everyone knew Top Gear was his life, what would happen now that it was taken away? James felt his chest grow infinitely tighter, and silently pleaded for Richard to drive faster.

“He won’t do anything that drastic. He’ll just go on a bender for a while. Twitter and alcohol and the like. Typical Jezza.” He said instead, unwilling to voice his fears out loud, and attempting to convince himself all the same.

Richard sighed as they exited the off ramp that lead them to Chipping Norton, “I hope so.”

When they’d made it to Jeremy’s house, the first thing they’d noticed was the Mercedes. It was half through the garage door, with the driver’s side door still open. James could hear the chiming ‘open door’ sound from all the way inside Richard’s Porsche.

Immediately, he felt his blood run cold in the way it does when something really, truly rattles someone. He again looked at Richard, who was too busy ripping off his seat belt and vaulting out of the car to notice James’ worried expression. Opening the car door, he stepped out, afraid that if he trod too noisily on the gravel driveway, Jeremy would come running out to kill him.

He shook his head, mentally telling himself to stop being irrational. His brain replied with a ‘no’, much like it usually did.

Upon seeing the damage to Jeremy’s car, James couldn’t help but replay what Hammond had said. What would they find when they entered the house? James didn’t want to think to hard on that, as it made his vision go all funny.

The first thing they did was slowly back the Mercedes out from where Jeremy had wedged it into the garage door, hearing the horrible crumpling sound sheets of aluminum were quite good at making. Richard did the driving while James attempted to pick up the pieces of the smashed car, before Richard got out and told him to stop fussing. He set the pile of metal and plastic he’d collected down next to the remnants of the left headlight cover and stood, dusting his palms on his pants.

The front door was wide open, but no sound came from the house, which in itself was more alarming then if Jeremy was yelling. James looked over at Richard again.

The two men entered the house, unsure if they should call out Jeremy’s name or remain quiet. Upon first glance, nothing seemed out of place, no plates smashed or cabinets without doors. All of the TV’s in the house were intact and the kitchen was clean, or as clean as Jeremy wanted it to be, that is.

A quick tour of the main floor told both men that Jeremy wasn’t there, so they headed upstairs. His bedroom, guest room and loft were all empty, meaning all that was left was his office.

When they peered through the door, they saw him sitting at his desk, a 40-ounce bottle of whiskey beside him, and no glass. He had his head in his hands, elbows resting on the desk, and his eyes shut.

Richard cleared his throat gently, to let Jeremy know they were there. He didn’t move. Richard tried again, this time adding a tentative “Jeremy?”, but still nothing. Unsure of what to do next, James stepped into the room, moving towards Jeremy. He placed a palm on Jeremy’s shoulder, shaking him gently.

“Jezza?” He asked, voice reticent.

“What the fuck do you want?” He croaked out, voice telling both James and Richard that he was beyond drunk. He was obliterated.

“We’re here to see if you’re ok, if you wanted to talk, or something.” Richard explained, his voice small. Jeremy laughed, mirthless and mocking, before lifting his head and peering out with bloodshot eyes. He spoke slow.

“You two think you’re gonna make this better? What the fuck are you two gonna do…”

“Try and sort this bullshit out Jezza, that’s what.” James chimed in. Again, Jeremy laughed.

“Fuck off. You two still have jobs, at my fucking show. Don’t come in here talking to me about sorting anything out.” He slurred, eyes unfocused.

James bristled. “Jez, we’re just trying to help. We’ll figure something out, we’ll talk to And-” Jeremy slammed his fist on the wooden desktop, making both men jump. James moved his palm back to his side.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TALK TO ME ABOUT HELP. THAT WAS MY SHOW, AND THEY FUCKING FIRE ME? FUCK BOTH OF YOU. KEEP YOUR BLOODY JOBS, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.” He roared, standing up.

James took a few steps backwards, moving to stand with Richard. His patience with Jeremy was wearing thin.

“Look Jezza, we-”

“STOP WITH THE FUCKING PATRONIZATION MAY. WHAT, YOU THINK THAT BECAUSE YOU WANT TO FUCK ME, TELLING ME THAT EVERYTHING IS GONNA BE OKAY WILL MAKE IT BETTER?” He seethed. “I don’t want to look at either of you, hear your fucking voices, nothing.”

James immediately felt Richard’s eyes on him, but didn’t humour him by looking back. Instead, he walked towards Jeremy, fists clenched. He grabbed Jeremy’s face in his palms, wrenching his head up and forcing him to look at him.

“Fuck you Clarkson. Whatever I felt for you just drowned in that bottle. And don’t you call me when you’re sober and need a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, because I'm telling you now, I won’t be around.” He dropped Jeremy’s face, and turned around, heading for the door. He brushed past Richard, mumbling “I’ll be by the car” and disappeared. Richard heard the front door slam moments later.

He stood there regarding Jeremy, who stared back out of unfocused eyes. Richard shook his head. “Call me when you sober up. But mate, James had a point. You can’t talk to people like that.”

“Fuck you too then.” Jeremy stammered. Richard let out a breathy laugh before turning and leaving as well, leaving Jeremy alone with the bottle. A small part of Richard hoped Jeremy, or that part of Jeremy at least, drowned.

When he made it outside, James was where he said he’d be, leaned up against the side of the car with a cigarette hanging out from between his lips. When Richard approached, James pulled out his pack, and offered Richard one. Richard hesitated momentarily. James shot him a look.

He took the smoke, took James’ lighter, and lit it, inhaling deeply. Sometimes he had to make exceptions. He wanted to ask James so badly about what Jeremy had said, but couldn’t find the words, for the second time that day.

“What do we do now?” He asked instead, smoke trickling from his lips like water.

James shrugged. “I think I’m done with Top Gear for a while. I need a break from that show, from everything.”

Richard looked at him warily, making him sigh. “Richard, you have all your panel shows, and talk shows and hosting nonsense. You’ll keep busy, don’t worry about me.”

“And you don’t? C’mon James, don’t be like that.”

“I can’t do TV for a while. I need a break.”

“But James,” Richard began, before James stood up, cutting him off.

“Look...you have other shows to go to Rich, you’re basically on everything the BBC ever does. I can’t just, start something new.” He said, flicking his smoke into the grass and heading towards the passenger door. “I just want to go home.”

Richard stared at him for a moment before nodding minutely. “Can do mate.”

 

* * *

 

The argument with Jeremy was on a Sunday. Richard didn’t expect to hear anything from either James or Jeremy until at least Tuesday, so he waited patiently for his phone to ring.

When Tuesday rolled around, he kept his mobile on him, just in case. It remained silent all day. He didn’t think about it too much. Wednesday was the same, and by the time he’d woken on Thursday, he began to worry about both men.

He resolved to call Jeremy after breakfast.

As he stood there with the phone to his ear, he suddenly realized that he was nervous. Jeremy was his oldest friend, he wasn’t going to bite, and Richard was sure he’d heard every expletive ever invented dribble from Clarkson’s lips at least once. So why was he so worried?

He didn’t have time to think about it any harder as a gravelly voice on the other end picked up, uttering a “Hello?” into the phone.

“Jezza, it’s…me. How uh, how are you?”

“Fine Richard. I’ve sobered up if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It wasn’t, but I’m glad to hear that anyways. How have you been the last few days? Haven’t heard from you mate.”

“What’s there to say? I’m expected to shut up and leave the world alone now, and that’s what I’m doing.” He retorted, sarcasm dripping from his words. Richard rolled his eyes, aware Jeremy couldn’t see.

“Jez you know what I meant. We’re worried about you, James and I.”

“James eh? I doubt that…Don’t…” He stopped, trailing off.

“Look mate, can I ask something?” Richard asked before he lost his nerve again. He had to know.

“What?”

“What you uh…said about James. Was it true?” Jeremy was silent for a few moments.

“Yeah mate, I think it was. He’d never said anything to me but…I could just tell.” It sounded like Jeremy was scratching his head.

“You shouldn’t have said what you did…you know how May is. He’s…” He trailed off, unable to find the word.

“Sensitive?” Jeremy tried, to which Richard nodded, again aware nobody could see him.

“Yeah, that’s it. Have you spoken to him since?” He asked.

“Nope. Didn’t think he’d want to talk after all that. Figured I’d give him some time.”

Richard laughed. “That might be the smartest thing you’ve ever said Clarkson.” Jeremy snickered on the other line. “Look,” Richard continued, “I’ll call him up and see how he’s doing. I haven’t heard from him since I dropped him off.”

“Yeah you call. Better you than me.” Jeremy added.

The two said their goodbyes, with the promise of a pub night thrown about. Richard felt better after the call, felt better knowing Jeremy was at least a little bit okay.

He mentally promised to phone James up after lunch, but the thought slipped his mind, only remembering again when he was in bed. He scratched the last promise, and made a new one. He’d call in the morning.


	4. The Admission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of those chapters that I couldn't find the motivation or inspiration to write. I knew what I wanted to say but the words escaped me. Thanks to a comment left on one of the previous chapters, I sat myself down and told myself to write, and this is the product of that. So a big thank you goes out to BourbonNeat for the kind words, and the inspiration to write this chapter. 
> 
> Small reference to suicide, as well as some harsh language, just as a heads up.

The pub was just about full when Richard heard the jingle of the door opening, and even then just barely over the loud voices echoing off the walls. The building was a small one, which had been around for what seemed like forever, so it only took Jeremy a few steps to reach the table that Richard sat at. Two beers were already placed on coasters, sweating slightly from being left untouched in the warm pub, waiting patiently for someone to drink them.

Jeremy shrugged his coat off, hanging it on the small hook beside their table, and sat. Richard regarded him silently, maintaining eye contact until Jeremy blanched and looked away. Richard was waiting for an apology, and not one that was bleated out over the phone because Jeremy knew he had to, or saw it as some kind of social obligation to keep people happy. Richard wanted a real one, and so he waited. And waited. And waited.

It wasn’t long before the silence between the two of them grew awkward enough that other people in the bar began shooting glances at their table, seeing as most of the locals were accustomed to raucous discussions, or Jeremy yelling about something or other when they sat in the pub. Tonight was different.

“Alright, fuck man. I’m sorry okay?” Jeremy eventually sighed into his beer, which he’d been just about hiding in since he’d arrived. Richard smiled, satisfied, and when Jeremy looked up, grinned slightly as well.

“Thank you. That’s all I wanted.” Richard murmured, still smiling.

“I know I should have said that days ago, I just…” Jeremy trailed off.

“Hate apologizing?” Richard finished for him, to which Jeremy nodded, looking sheepish. “I know that mate, it’s fine. I just wanted to hear it. And I think James wanted to as well…”

At the mention of James’ name, Jeremy looked up, finally giving Richard a good look at him. Jeremy looked exhausted; dark bags under his eyes and a five o’clock shadow that seemed more like a full beard by this point. His hair was more unkempt than it normally was, and he appeared to share the same expression as a dog who had just been kicked out and left in the rain. Richard sighed.

“Just fucking call him. What’s he going to do? Yell at you over the phone? You won’t feel any better until you talk to him because I know that’s what you’re losing sleep over.” Richard said, trying his hardest not to be frustrated at his friend. Jeremy was hurting just as bad as James, and Richard had to remind himself of that every time Jeremy sighed into his beer.

“I can’t. Why would he want to speak to me, after all I’ve done?”

“Knowing him, he probably doesn’t. Or at least is telling himself that he doesn’t. You were pretty rude mate.” Richard said, lips pursed.

“I thought you said you were going to call him, that day that we spoke?” Jeremy asked.

“I did.” He replied, not telling Jeremy that he’d put the phone call off as long as he could. Jeremy’s eyes grew wide, his eyebrows shooting up.

“And? What did he say?”

Richard shook his head. “He said nothing about you. I asked how he was, what he was doing. He didn’t say much to be honest.” Jeremy lifted his glass to take a sip. “He said he was planning on moving though, but didn’t say where.”

At this, Jeremy began to choke slightly on the liquid in his mouth, spilling it back into the glass before it ended up all down the front of his shirt. “He’s moving? Where in the fuck is he moving to?” He asked, incredulous. He felt his blood go cold. _It's all your fault._.

Richard shrugged, shaking his head. Jeremy felt like strangling the small man in front of him, instead slamming a fist down on the table, making beer slosh out of the glasses and onto the worn wood of the table. People around them looked over again.

“Maybe,” Richard began, regarding the man warily, “If you phoned him up like a grown adult, he’d talk to you. He’d tell you where he was moving.”

“You know I can’t” Jeremy seethed through his teeth. Richard looked unimpressed.

“And why fucking not? What flawed fucking logic are you going by Jeremy? It’s not hard to pick up the phone, dial him up and say ‘Look James, I was a twat and I apologize for not only being a colossal arse, but also for outing you to half the room’. He’s your best friend, he’ll come around mate, I promise.”

Jeremy shook his head, looking more upset than he’d been when he arrived. “It’s not that easy…”

It was Richard’s turn to sigh. “Fine, whatever you think is best.” He held his hands up in resignation.

Jeremy was quiet for a moment.

“Look, I care about him Richard. I really fucking do, you know that. He’s my best friend and I love him.” Jeremy whispered. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. You don’t know how badly I regret it.”

“I can imagine.” Richard murmured, all traces of frustration gone from his features. He wanted to make everything okay again, to have them be okay. This was the most open and honest he’d ever seen Jeremy, the seriousness of the situation registering sharply in his mind. Richard knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Jeremy cared more for James than most people knew. He'd seen it in Argentina.

“I…need him here, Rich. With me.” Jeremy continued, voice hushed. “I can’t stand the idea of him not being around…of him being mad.”

“I know mate, I miss him too. He’s always been a part of the team, it’s not right without him.” Richard agreed.

Jeremy didn’t seem to have heard him, looking lost in his thoughts.

“I thought I was going to lose him in Argentina. I thought they were going to come in the room and take him away from me and I couldn’t bare that thought. I had to protect him.” Jeremy choked out, his eyes glassy.

Richard suddenly understood it all, and with one swift motion stood up and pulled Jeremy up and out from where he sat, grabbing his coat and pushing him out of the pub. He didn’t want Jeremy to break down in front of all those people, who had no business seeing or hearing anything.

Instead they stood by Richard’s car, the parking lot silent.

“I kept telling him I’d protect him, that he should trust me. And I fucking did none of that! I’d told him in Argentina that I would make it better and the minute we step into London, I fucking ruin everything.” Jeremy sobbed, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks.

Richard ached, feeling as helpless as Jeremy looked. He gently touched Jeremy’s arm, before pulling the man into a hug.

“The night he slept over, when we’d gotten home from Argentina. I…I…wanted to tell him then.” Jeremy murmured into Richard’s shoulder, voice muffled by the fabric of Richard’s jacket.

Richard let go, and looked at Jeremy, tears leaving streaks down his face. “Tell him what, Jezza?”

“That I knew.” Jeremy said simply. Richard sighed. “I should have told him that I knew and that I felt the same.”

Richard looked up at Jeremy, wide eyed and slightly taken aback at hearing the truth come so blatantly from Jeremy. He’d always sort of known, but opted to say nothing, telling only Mindy. Now the final pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

Silently, he pulled his friend into another hug.

“He’ll be back Jezza, he can’t stay mad forever.”

 

* * *

 

Three weeks had passed and Jeremy’s phone remained untouched. The only things in his flat that moved on a semi regular basis were the TV remote and the fridge door. Everything else, including Jeremy, remained stagnant.

The blinds were drawn shut, food cartons littered the room, beer cans and empty whiskey bottled lined the edge of the table, and Jeremy felt as cliché as the room looked.

He sat on the couch, heavy head held in his hands, thinking that maybe if he stared at the floor long enough, he’d find a way to sink through it and never come back. He knew that the guilt that ate through him like acid would linger until he phoned James, but his hands were glued to the side of his head. He was the reason why James was leaving London.

Richard hadn’t said anything more about their conversation in the parking lot, to which Jeremy was endlessly thankful. It was hard enough to admit what he did; he imagined it would be even harder to have to talk about it on end, even if Richard was one of his best friends. Some things didn’t need to be said more than once.

Lighting a cigarette, he leaned back against the couch, eyes closing. He tried so hard to ignore the voice in his head that loved to tell him that this was how life was going to be from now on, that he’d fucked it all up, but he knew it was right. He knew he’d fucked up. And he found himself indifferent about his job, whereas thinking about it a few weeks ago made his insides burn like he’d drank gasoline. He could find work, he could start something new, but he couldn’t bring James back. He’d never bring James back to London.

Now all he did was drink himself silly.

The funny thing about alcohol is that to much disdain, it makes you remember when you’d care more to forget. Jeremy drank to forget the damage he’d done in such a short time, but the alcohol didn’t seem to be working. His eyes burned from being awake for so long, still sitting on the couch, the room now pitch black.

He wanted nothing more than to go back to how it was.

Sitting in the darkness, Jeremy remembered things he’d wanted nothing more than to erase from his memory. He remembered a conversation he had with James, and how he couldn’t sleep for weeks after that. They joked about vets, and suicide rates and pistols and James had gone and said the thing about the shotgun and Jeremy remembered staring at the ceiling for so many nights in a row after that, that he’d memorized the pattern of the stucco.

He remembered feeling helpless, feeling like once James had left the office for the day, he’d be too far out of reach. Jeremy didn’t want him to go.

He didn’t want him to go now, now that the same heavy feeling began to settle itself in the pit of his stomach as it did so long ago.

Somewhere in the darkness of the room, he could have sworn he’d heard his phone going off, the ringing registering in the back of his mind somewhere. He kept his eyes closed. Who’d want to talk to him now?

Eventually the ringing stopped. Silence. He told himself he was happy, and that he didn’t want to speak to anyone either. He took a drag off the almost burnt out cigarette, exhaling into the darkness.

What if it was James?

The voice inside his head suddenly pleaded for the phone to ring again, this time promising he’d answer it if it did.

“Please ring, please. I’ll be a better man if it does. I won’t make the same mistakes I did, I’ll make amends. Please.” He whispered to the stale air in the room.

As if on cue, his phone vibrated. This time, he lunged for it, swiping the screen to open the text message.

It was from Richard.

“James phoned. He’s moved to Canada.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, let me know what you think.


	5. The Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fun chapter to write! I'm a big fan of heavy imagery, so I tried to make this chapter as descriptive as possible, so you can imagine what everything looks like. 
> 
> Also! A big huge massive thank you to everyone who's commented or liked this story so far. You don't know how stupidly happy it makes me to see and hear that people are enjoying it. Stuff like that is so inspiring, so thank you again. I only hope that you continue to enjoy it until it's end.

If it was bad before, it was worse now. Endlessly worse, in fact. After the third day of calling Jeremy’s mobile, Richard just about gave up, as there were only so many voicemails a man could leave. He’d just about begged Jeremy to phone him back, to talk to him, to tell him that he was okay and still breathing, his pleading voice coming out tinny through Jeremy’s voicemail. Richard knew Jeremy wouldn’t phone him back, regardless of how often he phoned. Not unless he knew something about James, where he was going, or where he’d gone.

So Richard stopped calling Jeremy and began calling Andy.

Richard hadn’t seen or spoken to Andy since the day he’d fired Jeremy, finding himself not in the mood to speak to him or any of the BBC employees he saw on a daily basis for that matter.

He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he waited for Andy to pick up, silently hoping that Andy would know where James had flown off too. It occurred to him as he stood there, hung up for the fifth time and dialed the same number over again that he would have to do something with the knowledge he might be gaining.

He knew that he would inevitably tell Jeremy, who would inevitably do something stupid. Like hop a plane to wherever the hell James had went to find him, and try and patch things up in the best way that he knew how to, bluntly and persistently.

Richard groaned, but found himself unable to hang up, needing to know just as badly as Jeremy did. Maybe, just maybe, this is how he'd begin to fix things.

Andy answered on the third ring, sounding tired.

"'Allo?”

“Andy, it’s uh..me. How’ve you been?” Richard inquired.

“Not bad. Judging from the lack of communication, you’ve been busy these last few weeks?” Andy joked, but Richard didn’t laugh. The silence from Richard’s end was obvious, and Andy stopped chuckling long enough to realize Richard wasn’t laughing with him.

“You don’t know _half_ of what’s happened, alright?” Richard murmured, before stopping. “ _Look_ ,” he sighed, “Jezza’s been an absolute fucking wreck. He lost his job and his best friend in the span of about 4 hours. You’ve gotta cut him some slack…”

Andy sighed. “I knew he’d take it badly. What happened when you left?” He asked, his voice hesitant, as if he was unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.

“James and I went to find him, and found his car halfway through the garage door of his house and Jeremy halfway through a bottle of Grouse. _That’s_ what happened. Then he yelled at James, who stormed off.” Richard finished soberly. Andy said nothing for a few moments, and it was Richard who spoke again, breaking the awkward silence.

“Where did he go Andy? Please…just, where did he go? I can’t do this anymore. You don’t see what this is doing to Jezza.” He pleaded, exhaustion lacing his words. “Please. I know you know, he had to have told you.”

Andy sighed into the receiver, and it was in that moment that Richard knew Andy knew everything.

“He’s in Canada. In British Columbia, in some small town in the middle of absolutely fucking nowhere. You’d think he’d have had enough of the snow and cold after the Arctic bullshit he went through but apparently not. It’s called uh…” Andy paused, trying to remember the name that James had mentioned in passing, “Kinaskan lake? Something like that. He said it was a quiet town, and that was what he wanted. Uh…Glenora, that’s what it was.”

Richard was furiously writing down the names that Andy spewed at him, in fear of missing any details, regardless of how minuscule they were. Andy told him all he knew, the name of the town and the lake it bordered, how far out he was and when he left. Richard said he’d figure the rest out on his own. Before Richard hung up, Andy paused, hesitating for a moment before saying goodbye.

“Are you going to tell Jeremy where he’s gone?” Andy asked, knowing that regardless of what Richard said, he’d tell him anyways. He had to.

“I am. He _really_ cares about him Andy, you can’t expect Jezza to just sit here without him. If he knows where he is, he’ll go.” Richard replied, unsure if he should tell Andy too much about what Jeremy had said. Andy sighed.

“I could’ve guessed. Just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid okay? The Canadian wilderness and Jeremy don’t really mesh.” Richard promised he would, and hung up.

 

* * *

 

“Dease Lake, this is Delta-Echo-Sierra-One-Seven, heading towards the runway. Requesting clearance for priority landing.”

The radio crackled to life in the cabin of the plane, just barely audible over the rumble from the engine.

“Dease Lake tower acknowledges, Delta-Echo-Sierra-One-Seven you’re clear to land.”

James effortlessly swung the plane around, beginning a slow decent towards the tiny gravel runways that made up most of the airport, if you could even call it that. Even from the height he was at, he could see the few tips of grass that managed to poke out from under the snow that seemed to blanket most of the surrounding province. Everything below him was bathed in white, except for the massive evergreens that stood like giants among the smaller trees that made up the expansive canopy. The whole scene looked like something out of a wilderness program.

The plane he flew was a small one, a Cessna 172 that was mostly white with the roof painted a navy blue, and orange striping along both sides. D-S17 was painted on the tail in black, the crisp paint gleaming in the cold morning sun. He’d bought the plane three days after he’d left Jeremy’s house, already knowing then that he had to leave England for somewhere more tranquil, and remote enough that he’d actually be needing a plane.

As James began to bring the plane down, he managed to make out the people standing slightly to the left of the end of the runway, hands up shielding their eyes against the sunlight. He slowly brought it down, jostled slightly by the landing gear making contact with the gravel strip, rolling along it smoothly until he came to a full stop.

The airstrip was made up of the two runways, and two small white buildings, both of which were just slightly bigger than a generous garden shed. The air traffic control tower was two storeys high, but looked less like a tower and more like a room stacked on another, balancing precariously. Beside the tower was a smaller T-shaped building, painted white as well, making it nearly impossible to distinguish from all the rest of the snow that lay on the ground, and just about everywhere else.

He exited the plane, pulling his dark sunglasses off his face and resting them on top of his head, pushing his hair out of his face at the same time. As he stood next to the plane, having finished his after-flight checks, the two men that stood just up ahead waved him over. He headed towards them, smiling gently.

“James! How’s it going?” The taller of the two men asked. He was younger than James but not by much, judging by the greying hair at his temples. He wore a thick black parka, furry hood being jostled about by the icy wind.

“Not too bad thanks Rick. How’s it been so far?” James asked, shaking his hand.

“Alright, nothing too bad, so I’m thinking it’ll be alright here today. How was the flight over? That old girl still treating you well?” Rick inquired, looking over James’ shoulder towards where his plane rested, nodding in it’s direction.

James smiled. “Better this time. I’m getting the hang of where things are now, I think.”

“This is your third flight over?” The other man asked, making James turn and nod politely.

James had never met him, having only ever seen Rick at the airport, and sometimes Marian, Rick’s wife, who worked in the office.

“We haven’t met, I’m Ken. Sometimes Ricky here calls me in if he needs something done, mostly if he’s too lazy to do it himself.” He joked, earning a shove from Rick who laughed as well.

Ken extended a hand to James, who shook it politely. Ken stood taller than James, his sharp blue eyes regarding him carefully. He wore a worn leather jacket and faded jeans, holes torn in both knees. He was taller than James by quite a bit, but had to be at least twenty pounds lighter, his face angular and sharp. He was attractive in a way that James didn’t want to think about too closely, or at all for that matter, so he pulled his sunglasses on, hoping to feel a little less exposed.

Rick interrupted, saying something about having mail for James, useless forms to fill out for licensing and a bill from the local phone and wireless company, and wandered off to get it from inside the building.

Ken pulled out a smoke, before turning and offering one to James, who took it. Immediately, he patted down his jacket pockets for a lighter, before one appeared in front of him. Ken grinned and lit the cigarette, a murmured thanks shared between the two.

“So. You’re not from around here I take it?”

James shook his head. “No, I’m from London. Moved out here, what...must’ve been a month ago now.”

“Ah, I _see_. And why would someone like you move out somewhere like here, if you don’t mind me asking?” He inquired, eyes squinting in a way that made James bristle. It was nobody’s business why he’d left. Not the truth anyways.

“I got tired of being there. Wanted something new, something a little more… _quiet_.” He said, looking around at the endless sea of green that surrounded them, regarding it with awe he’d yet to lose. He didn’t think the sheer beauty of the place would ever cease to impress him.

Ken furrowed his brow, and nodded like he understood entirely, while James stared at his feet, a small ache beginning to blossom in his temple. He didn’t want to have to think about why he’d left, let alone talk about it with a complete stranger.

“The only time I’ve ever heard of people leaving home and moving this far, is when something back home is making them leave…” Ken murmured, more to himself than to James, who’d heard it anyways.

Ken flicked his smoke and turned towards James.

“Hopefully that’s not the case however. You seem like a nice guy, wouldn’t want things to be too tumultuous for you.”

An icy sort of cold that had nothing to do with the frigid weather settled itself in James’ stomach, almost causing him to laugh out loud at the irony of it all, of what Ken had just said. Before James had a chance to think up a reply, Rick had returned from the office, waving a stack of letters and a manila envelope he carried in his hand.

“Here, they’re all sorted out for you. Mostly just utilities shit, water and heating and hookups and all that. A few are from the phone guys too.” Rick noted as he handed the pile over to James, who nodded appreciatively.

“Thanks Rick, I’ll go through it all at home. I best be heading back though, I’d prefer not to fly in the dark.” Rick nodded, and clapped a hand on James’ shoulder. James turned to Ken, who smiled warmly, and extended a hand again.

“It was a pleasure meeting you James. It’s a shame you live so far out, I’d have you over for beers.” James laughed.

“Of course. What kind of man would I be if I said no to free beer?” He replied, making both of the others grin. He promised he’d fly back again before the month ended, both men seemingly satisfied with this.

Once his pre-flight checks were finished again, he waved to the two men from the window, and began to coast towards the other runway. He picked up the handheld radio from the center console.

“Delta-Echo-Sierra-One-Seven, heading towards the runway once again, requesting clearance for takeoff.”

“Clearance granted, have safe flight home James.” Rick crackled though, his voice projected loudly in the cabin of the plane. James set the radio down and went back to flying, bringing the plane’s nose up from the gravel runway with ease, feeling the landing gear lift off as well.

The plane might have been a small one, and a relatively cheap one but James didn’t mind. It was easy enough to fly, maneuverable and quick, which made up for the multitude of mechanical issues it seemed to like to spring on him. Regardless, it got him from his home to the airport, and over to the small town a few miles east when he needed groceries or supplies without any issues. It wasn’t like he was carrying passengers, or luggage back and forth, so a small dual seat Cessna was more than enough.

The silence in the cabin, as well as at home was something James was still getting used to. He was isolated from just about everything other than trees and animals, leaving him with nobody to argue with, or chase after, which was exactly what he wanted, and what he hoped would keep him sane.

The complete solitude was eerie at first, his first few nights sleeping in the cabin were spent wide-awake listening for bears he’d half expected to come barreling through his front door. He was kept awake by the thought that he could die out here, alone in the wilderness, and nobody would know. He tried not to think about that too closely.

His thoughts were much quieter now though; the small voice in his head far too occupied with things around the house and all of the building he wanted to plan to worry about the way things remained in London.

He mentally reassured himself that it wouldn’t do well to dwell on places and people he didn’t need. Not anymore.

His introspective thinking had him so occupied that he didn’t realize how close to home he’d gotten, spotting the tail end of his runway outside his cabin way below him.

His cabin was small, with more than enough room for one person to live comfortably, situated in the middle of a clearing far out among the trees. It consisted of dark wood logs stacked tightly together, with stonework on the corners and front of the house, and a dark thatched roof. A small awning stood on thick wood pillars above the front door, and a tiny stone chimney puffed out smoke from the propane heating system James had installed when he first arrived, having both propane and solar systems set up, just to be safe.

Adjacent to the cabin, several feet away was the dirt runway, built when the cabin was, which worked just fine for James, having no issue landing his plane on it so far. It began near the house, and went for a mile or so, disappearing into the foliage of the trees that shadowed just about everything on the ground below them.

Inside the cabin were four rooms, a basement below and a tiny attic above, in which he’d stored all of the junk he couldn’t find a neat place for within the home. The kitchen was well furnished, all stainless steel and oak furniture, something James had insisted on having. Out here, luxuries were few and far between, so he took what he could get. A warm living room was connected to the kitchen, lamps casting an orange glow over the rustic wood framed furniture, with large bay windows lined in white on either side of the room that let natural light spill in and onto the floor. A stone fireplace was built into the wall, adding to the glow in the room. His bedroom consisted of a bed, a dresser for his clothing and a closet, and not much else, connecting only to a bathroom that at least had working plumbing and hot water when he wanted it.

By the time James had made it home, dusk had turned to complete darkness. He lay in bed, hands clasped behind his head, as the light from the moon spilled through the blinds on his window, cascading over his blankets. He couldn’t help but think about home, about London, especially after today. He shook himself, catching his mistake. “This is home now,” he whispered to the darkness.

He closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, trying his hardest not to think about how things should have been.

 


	6. The Trees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, let me apologize for how long this chapter took to post. I've had no inspiration to write in days, and work has taken up most of my free time, it being a retail job and the holiday season. I was talking to a friend about Jeremy, and found a photo of him and Andy taken just after he'd arrived in England from Argentina. They both looked tired and bedraggled, and immediately gave me an idea for how this chapter would turn out. 
> 
> Secondly, I've set this story in real places, that actually exist in Canada. This makes it imperative that any geographical locations I write about (like airports) exist as well. I try and make this story as accurate in as many ways as I can, but occasionally take liberties to make things work in the long run. 
> 
> I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and I promise the next one will come more quickly. Thank you all for over 600 views. That in itself is staggering, so thank you all so much.

Jeremy was fast asleep on the couch when the phone woke him up, startling him back into a hazy consciousness. He had been dreaming about trees, millions of them. When he tried to recall the dream, all he could remember was the startling amount of green he tried to take in. The dark blinds that hung across his windows were drawn shut; forcing the sunlight to squeeze it’s way into the flat through the bits where the fabric couldn’t cover, and just under the blinds. Regardless of the light that made it’s way in, the room and much of the flat was still dark.

Jeremy was brooding.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, the back of his hand catching on the stubble that was now more of a full-blown beard and rasping against it. He squinted for his phone, finding it vibrating on the table in front of him, next to a slew of beer cans and a half eaten bag of crisps. Brushing the detritus away, he snatched the phone, looking at it questioningly. Nobody had phoned in days, the silence from his mobile a noticed thing, so why would someone phone now? He answered anyways.

“Hullo?” He croaked.

“Jez it’s me.”

“Andy, to what do I owe the pleasure?” This had him sitting up straight.

“I figured you’d had long enough to cool down…” Andy began.

“I feel like there’s supposed to be an ‘and’ thrown in there somewhere.” He cut in.

“If you’d let me finish, you’ll find out there was. Anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to meet for lunch, there’s some stuff we need to discuss.” Andy suggested, sounding a confusing mix of pleased and hesitant. Jeremy frowned, the tone of his voice putting him on edge.

“Sure? Where were you thinking?” He agreed. Might as well listen, even if what he had to say was bullshit.

“Bull & Last, tomorrow around noon? We’ll do lunch.”

Jeremy agreed, promising to actually show up, and hung up. Setting the phone down on the table again, he sighed heavily. Something must have happened, either at the BBC or with James, and Andy had pulled his head out of his ass long enough to call Jeremy to talk. Or that’s what Jeremy had hoped at least. Andy wouldn’t have called if he didn’t want to talk about something necessary; he wasn’t that kind of guy.

He knew he’d pissed off a lot of people, and the even the ones who still liked him didn’t really like him that much anyway. But that was how it’d always been, right?

The phone call had put him in a sour mood, reminding him about all of the chaos that his month of constant alcohol consumption had hoped to delete. He had lost his job and replaced its emptiness with beer, a temporary fix to a much larger issue, one that he hoped to ignore for as long as possible, instead focusing on the hoppy taste of the amber liquid. He lost James, and replaced him with whiskey. Like James, it burned inside, tough to swallow and rough around the edges. It was intolerable sometimes, making him feel even worse than when he’d started out. But it made him warm and took the ache away. It kept him occupied and took his mind elsewhere. It was everything like James and nothing like him all at once. Jeremy hated himself more with every sip he couldn’t stop himself from taking.

He drank until he fell asleep on the couch, too gone to care about where he passed out.

He didn’t bother at all with his appearance when the time had come to get out of his flat to meet Andy. ‘Sod what the paparazzi think’, he thought as he dug through his closet for something clean to wear. Deciding upon a lavender button up, a beige sport coat and jeans, he refused to look at his reflection as he was leaving. Even he didn’t want to acknowledge how much he’d let himself go. He grabbed his keys and wallet before looking back at the flat he’d pretty much been self exiled in for the last month or so, taking it’s messy appearance as as good of a reflection of his own as he’d get without actually looking into a mirror. He slammed the door.

Andy was sitting at the table already when he’d arrived, wearing a shabby blue t-shirt and jeans. Jeremy immediately felt better about his own attire when he saw how Andy had chosen to dress for their meeting.

“So, you’ve finally given up, have you?” He inquired as he sat down, regarding Andy carefully. He didn’t look too mad still, but Jeremy had never been a good judge of emotion. Andy had forgiven him for a lot in the past, and Jeremy hoped this time wouldn’t be any different.

“Says the man who looks like he’s decided to start sleeping in a coffin.” Andy shot back. Jeremy narrowed his eyes, but said nothing, knowing Andy was most likely right. “You look like shit man. And I know you feel like shit too, no need to lie about that.”

The waiter chose this moment to appear at the side of their table, asking them if they’d like something to drink. Andy ordered a beer, Jeremy a glass of Riesling. When the waiter disappeared, Jeremy replied.

“Of course I feel like shit Andy, it’s fairly warranted, don’t you think?”

“It is, to an extent. But there comes a point where brooding turns into apathy, which turns into self-pity. And I think you’re long past all of those points.”

“Alright Mr. Psychology, please do continue. Tell me about how my childhood is to blame for my bad adult behavior and-”

Andy cut him off. “You like feeling sorry for yourself.”

Jeremy stared at him for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Sure, whatever you say.”

The waiter returned with their drinks, taking their lunch orders, and leaving again.

“Look,” Jeremy said as he sipped his wine, “I’ve just been fired, and lost someone I cared about, how would you feel if you were in my shoes?”

“ _Cared_ about?” Andy asked, raising his eyebrows. Jeremy went pale. “Why the past tense?”

Jeremy scoffed. “Why would he give two shits about me anymore, after what I said. He’d be stupid to, anyways…” Jeremy murmured. Andy pursed his lips.

“You miss him?”

Jeremy nodded. “Of course I do. He was my best friend. Even if we won’t work together, I’d still like to…I dunno, have him around.” Jeremy admitted. He tried to keep his responses neutral, he'd had enough of a crisis telling Richard the truth, Andy didn't need to hear it too.

“I know. I miss him too. I just don’t know why he chose somewhere so far, so away from everyone.” Andy sighed.

“It’s my fault, you know that right? I’m the one who-” Jeremy suddenly stopped, tilting his head and furrowing his brow.

“What?” Andy asked, eyebrows raised.

“You, you just said he chose somewhere far away from everybody. How do _you_ know where he’s gone?” Jeremy asked, his voice growing low.

“I just assumed it’d be somewhere quiet, knowing James…you know how he gets.” Andy backpedaled, trying to cover quickly. Jeremy wasn’t falling for it.

“ _Yes_ , Andy I do know how he gets. Better than anyone else actually. And _you_ know exactly where he is.” Andy looked at him over the rim of his beer glass. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because. I knew that if I did, you’d hop a plane and show up at his doorstep without any thought about consequence or repercussion. Or if he’d even let you in. I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret, or that James would.”

“You know I need to find him. I need to apologize, to tell him…” Jeremy stopped.

“I know Jez, I do. But I need you to think about your actions for once, think things through.”

“Where is he Andy, please. Just…tell me.”

Andy inhaled, and let it out noisily. He looked at Jeremy for a moment.

“He’s in British Columbia. Up north somewhere, in a place called Glenora. He bought a cabin in the forest, away from every bit of civilization he could find.”

Jeremy looked as though he was going to cry, his face raw. The idea that James was somewhere in the Canadian wilderness, alone, made Jeremy’s stomach turn anxiously . He should be here, in London with him, going to pubs and eating curries and driving his obnoxiously atrocious little Fiat. Jeremy should be able to drive to his flat, not have to get on a plane to fly across the world, not to see James.

He looked at Andy, who regarded him carefully. Andy knew what he was going to say, and even if he didn’t want to admit it, knew what Jeremy was going to do too.

“I’m going to find him Andy. I have to.”

 

* * *

 

He phoned the travel agency when he arrived home from lunch, Andy’s words still bouncing around in his head. He wasn’t doing anything brash, or unplanned at all, not in his mind at least. He had been waiting for two weeks to hear the slightest word about where James had gone, and now that he had, he felt he owed it to himself and to James to fly out there and make things right. That wasn’t brash, that was the right thing to do. As the phone rang, he imagined what the house must look like, if it was picturesque and remote like the homes he saw in programs on television were. He thought about James, out there all alone. He wondered if he’d bought flannel shirts.

The lady on the phone was pleasant enough, booking his flight for Monday, which would give him the weekend to pack. The flight would be from Heathrow to Prince Rupert Airport, where he’d catch a connecting flight to the airport in Glenora, and then a private plane was scheduled to fly him to James’. The whole trip made his head spin, trying to grasp the fact that he had to fly to reach James, that he wasn’t around the corner anymore.

A thought popped into his head as he wrote down the details for the flights in his phone. What would he do if James didn’t let him in. What would happen? How would he tell James everything, his apologies and admissions? Jeremy shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts. He wouldn’t think about that, because it wouldn’t happen. James would let him in and offer him a cup of tea, like he always did. Jeremy found he had his fingers crossed as he typed his flight itinerary.

Jeremy lay in bed that night, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. He’d not touched a drop of alcohol either, electing to fall asleep sober, or at least try to. His insomnia decided to rear its head, forcing him to stare at the ceiling for hours, until the stucco patterns began to take shape. He closed his eyes and imagined a forest, a sprawling sea of green peaks and valleys that covered the ground like a bed sheet. He felt like he’d seen it before, feeling the familiar feeling of déjà vu, when the images danced around in his mind. He thought about losing himself in those trees, walking beneath the canopy where the shadows touched the ground, and sunlight didn’t. He pictured himself walking, and as he walked, he slowly began to grow lighter, every step was easier to take, and as he looked back, he saw that the earth was disturbed, as if something was dug up and reburied. As he continued to walk, he came upon a home, made of wood and stone. He knocked on the door, and when James answered, he smiled. James did too. James looked around him, to where he’d emerged from the trees, seeing the small piles of upturned earth.

Jeremy didn’t notice himself drift off, but then again nobody does. He didn’t notice the moonlight spilling in through his blinds, or the email confirming his tickets flash on his phone screen, illuminating the whole room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to include the photo of Jeremy and Andy, just for reference, as well as a photo I've found that I think perfectly captures where James now lives. Just for added visualization purposes.
> 
>  
> 
> [ James' View ](http://36.media.tumblr.com/dd0f8edc3c19ae62cf9e8271bad5a655/tumblr_nejjv0T6OC1tvg7qeo4_1280.jpg) and [ Jezza and Andy ](http://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CAcQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.mirror.co.uk%2Ftv%2Ftv-news%2Fbbc-jeremy-clarkson-cover-up-storm-4404585&ei=-cJ-VLbwNoT5yQSOyoGYAg&bvm=bv.80642063,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNGoFdyUrWguyMYdBiz3_OQV00ICzg&ust=1417679967852835)


	7. The Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever, I'm sorry. I hope it'll be worth it though.

He sat in the lounge, the “VIP flyer” lounge in fact, which was tucked away from the rest of the thousands of normal travellers that passed through the airport every minute of every day. Small luxuries, he’d told himself, but he still felt apathetic about the entire situation. The lack of any real, restful sleep had Jeremy looking and feeling more like a sentient punching bag than an actual human being, drifting in and out of coherence. The flight was at some ungodly time, and he had nothing to do at home, so here he was, drinking a gin and tonic at 3:15 in the morning.

He placed his drink down on the table in front of him, the tiny useless thing that it was, and rested his head in his palms. A tired ache began behind his eyes, and his head immediately felt pounds heavier. The wood grain pattern of the floor eventually made his eyes blur, making him realize that he’d had his head hung down for quite some time. His eyes snapped back into focus and he looked around the quiet room. The floor to ceiling windows opposite him let what little light they could into the room, most if it made up for by the many lamps glowing orange they’d placed in between the chairs scattered around the room. The chairs were a plush sort of red and blue suede, some of them soft brown leather instead. One large, striped couch sat in the middle.

There were two others in the large room besides Jeremy; two men in black suits who sat huddled around a MacBook on the other side of the room. Jeremy ignored them and leaned back into his seat, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He toyed with the idea of texting James, but didn’t know what he’d say. For someone who spent his entire life presenting on television, Jeremy felt strangely out of words the last few weeks. He decided on Hammond instead, and pulled his glasses down off the top of his head.

“I guess I’m off to Canada then. Andy told me everything. I need to fix this, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing.” His thumbs hovered over the illuminated glass screen, unsure what to say. He decided on a friendly “Try not to miss me too much Hamster” and his best guess at a winking face before shutting off his phone and finishing the last dregs of his drink, standing to throw the cup out.

The windows in the rest of the terminal showed that it was still pitch black outside, seeing as it was nearing 4 in the morning; his blurry eyes making the lights on the runways look hazy. He shook his head, tilting his head back with eyes shut tight. The lights on the ceiling were round, white dishes that made him feel like he was in some kind of science fiction movie, so he left. Wishing desperately for a cigarette, he went to sit in the terminal departures area, his flight scheduled for take off in 45 minutes. Jeremy couldn’t help but wonder if he really was doing the right thing, just flying out and showing up, bags in hand on James’ front porch, expecting an opened armed welcome. James had every right to be mad, of course he did, but Jeremy couldn’t live the rest of his life with the last memory of James being the one it was. His face, the hurt etched so deeply as he leaned over the desk, was burned into Jeremy’s memory. He couldn’t leave it like that. The call for his flight echoed in the empty room, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Eventually, he found himself in his seat on the plane, so lost in worry that he couldn’t tell how he got there, feeling like he’d drifted from one room of the terminal to the other for the last two hours. The flight would be almost 10 hours, long enough for him to replay every conversation they’d had in the last 11 years. He shut his eyes, the irony of once again sitting in a seat on an airplane with a head full of words that his mouth had to string into an apology not lost on him. He was getting tired of it.

  

* * *

 

The turbulence woke him up, the plane rocking steadily back and forth making the bags in the overhead rattle about. He felt the stirrings of panic unfurl themselves in his gut, but the voice of the captain crackled over the PA, letting them all know it was nothing to worry about, and that they’d be landing in less than 10 minutes. His iPod was still playing loudly in one ear, his attempt at drowning out the thoughts that his traitorous subconscious forced him to deal with the entire flight. Jeremy was fine with introspection, in small, 5-minute bursts, every once in a blue moon. 10 hours of dealing with himself had him ready to open the plane doors and jump out. No wonder people couldn’t stand him, when he couldn’t even stand himself. The call for the beginning of their decent into Prince Rupert rang through the cabin, and people began stirring about noisily, all anxious to get out of the tin can they’d been stuck in. Jeremy needed a cigarette, maybe three, and a large drink, hoping his vices would make him feel at least somewhat human again, or at least human enough to encourage him to continue on.

When the plane finally touched down, Jeremy was one of the first ones off, grabbing his luggage and hauling himself out of the plane and into the vast expanse of airport. Locating the first exit he saw, he just about ran, a cigarette stuck between his lips before he’d even exited the building. The first inhale of nicotine in more than 10 hours finally hitting his lungs, and he sighed in contentment. He'd finished the cigarette in three long drags, and another was placed in his mouth when he'd reached the filter one the first one. The second was enjoyed more slowly. The people around him stared, but didn’t come up to him. Maybe they could tell that he was a man flying to his death, somewhere in the Canadian wilderness. Maybe they just didn't give a fuck. Either way, he stood there and smoked. The next flight would be a measly two hours, and then he’d be in Glenora, one step closer to James, who, Jeremy has decided, would probably hit him in the face.

If he thought the first plane was small, he nearly choked when he saw the second one, a sardine can with wings parked among the real planes. He looked around at the people waiting on the tarmac with him, as if they were in on the joke and he wasn’t, waiting for one of them to clap him on the back and direct him towards the real plane, but it never happened. He sat wedged into a window seat, his legs folded in front of him uncomfortably. His knee was already throbbing and the plane had been in the air for twenty minutes. He kept telling himself it was worth it, it was all for the greater good. He would endure this torture for hours, only to make it to James’ front door and either get knocked out, or flat out ignored, and spend the evening sleeping on a porch. But the chance to apologize hung over his head, his chest aching with the need to be redeemed in James’ eyes. All he wanted was for things to be okay, for him and James to be okay. He didn’t want to let himself begin to think about the possibility of anything past ‘okay’, because it was almost certainly out of the question. If he thought about James and him on ‘more than okay’ terms, he would begin to think it was a possibility, and get his hopes up for nothing. Shaking his head, he attempted to disperse the thoughts, and only really succeeded in making the person next to him stare nervously. He rolled his eyes.

The Glenora airport was minuscule, a small patch of land with buildings that looked more like milk cartons placed haphazardly around two strips of paved concrete. The man who would be flying him to James’ stood next to his plane, a tiny two seater Cessna that looked like it had seen better days. He wore a dark coat, jeans and heavy winter boots. His brown hair was hidden by a hat, making him look like some sort of Arctic explorer, giving Jeremy flashbacks to that god-awful trip they tried their hardest to forget. He exited the plane and headed towards the man, his luggage dragging along behind him. The man stuck his hand out, smiling warmly.

“Hello there! Mr…” he trailed off.

“Clarkson,” Jeremy provided, “but just call me Jeremy.”

The man nodded, still smiling. “Alright Jeremy. I’m Rick, I’ll be flying you up to the cabin then.” He stuffed both his hands into his coat pockets, and Jeremy did the same, regretting that he'd forgotten to pack his his gloves.

Jeremy eyed the plane in front of him wearily, eyes moving from the plane to Rick and back again. “Do you really think this thing will make it? I mean…look at it.” He gestured to the plane, making Rick laugh.

“She might look like a hunk of shit, but trust me she can fly. I’m from the airport over at Dease Lake, which is closer to James’ place, but they asked me to meet you here, cause of convenience and the like.” Jeremy nodded as he placed a cigarette between his lips, still unconvinced of the longevity of the plane. He kept his thoughts to himself for once as Rick helped him load the luggage into the back, stuffing it in while Jeremy enjoyed his smoke, praying it wouldn’t be his last. Rick told him to take his time, as he still had things to take care of, and went off to grab something from the office.

He surveyed his surroundings as he waited. There were fewer trees than he'd seemed to imagine were sprawled like grains of sand across western Canada, but what he was surrounded by was beautiful. He could see mountains in the distance, their icy peaks just out of vision, and the trees he could see were dense and green. When Rick returned and began his pre-flight checks, it immediately reminded him of James and his tenacity towards making sure everything was perfect, while Jeremy stood at a distance and made ‘Captain OCD’ jokes. He finished his smoke just as Rick was calling him over, saying something about struts and carb filters that Jeremy rolled his eyes at. They’d only be in the air for 45 minutes, but Jeremy dreaded having to spend even a minute inside that winged death trap, and as if on cue, Rick told him to get in and buckle up.

The plane was, if possible, even smaller from the inside, the luggage behind him and man beside him making his space almost nonexistent. His legs, crumpled again, began to ache and he mentally promised himself that even if James refused to let him in, would not step one foot inside a plane for at least a week. Two if he could manage. Rick, who's voice Jeremy was beginning to zone out mentioned James in passing, which had his attention snapping back.

“How do you know James?” Jeremy asked, aiming for a noncommittal tone.

“He flies out to Dease Lake once or twice a week, to get food and supplies and such. He introduced himself when he moved out here, nice enough guy. He’s quiet though, keeps to himself.” He said, not looking at Jeremy. “We talk about cars when I see him, he certainly knows a lot. I might have him look at mine the next time he flies over y’know. I think it’s misfiring but I’m not sure, never been good with cars.” Jeremy grinned, staring out the window. The trees below him, now dense and plentiful, covered just about every foot of land he saw, their green canopies blurring together as they sped past.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Rick began, “how do you know James? He’s never mentioned you before.”

Jeremy swallowed, immediately unsure what to say. Were they friends? Old co-workers? He didn’t feel like explaining the whole story to a man he’d just met who was flying a box with wings, so he settled on colleague, who was flying over for a visit. Rick just nodded and hummed affirmatively, but said no more. He only spoke again to point out Dease Lake airstrip, which Jeremy didn’t really care all that much about. He was finally here, and the panic began to rise in his throat again, the situation suddenly much more real than it had been when he was talking to Andy, or when he’d phoned for the plane tickets. He still had no idea what to say, or what to do, or what he’d do if it all went wrong. He just wanted to see James again.

No clever words came to mind when he quickly tried to pull his thoughts together as he felt the plane begin it’s descent, no heartfelt lines about friendship and forgiveness. Nothing. He was left with the sound of his chest beating so loudly he could hear it in his head, the steady _thump thump thump thump_ making it hard to concentrate. He’d wing it, crossing his fingers in his coat sleeve and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. The jolt of the landing gear hitting pavement had his eyes flying open, and he inhaled sharply.

The cabin was gorgeous, nestled gently among the many trees that circled the area. It was still light out, so Jeremy could see how perfect it was, built like something out of a movie, with the setting sun shining on all the angles and edges. He opened the plane door, and stepped out slowly, still taking in his surroundings, amazed that James lived in a place like this, so beautiful and serene. He saw a plane tucked in the trees, parked on a gravel runway paved into the dirt, knowing it belonged to James. It amazed him how much James’ had changed about his life in such a short time, ashamed that it was his fault in the first place. His luggage was placed beside him, and he turned to Rick, who was walking back to his plane. When he turned around, Jeremy smiled, and nodded.

“Thank you Rick. I, uh, wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, so thank you.” He said, smiling earnestly for the first time since they’d met.

Rick grinned, and shook his head. “No worries Mr. Clarkson. You have a good time all the way out here. Get James out of his head for once, you seem like the kind of guy who’d be good at that.”

Jeremy stared, unsure what to say, but Rick just laughed and opened the pilot’s side door, climbing back in to the plane. He waved once before rolling down the runway and taking off, slowly becoming nothing more than a small black dot against the fading sun in the horizon. Jeremy was all alone, standing steps away from James’ door. He felt sick as he walked towards the large oak door, praying his heart wouldn’t stop dead in his chest. His fist shook as he raised it to knock, three hard raps on the wood. It felt like everything stilled, the silence around him audible for the first time. He heard footsteps, and the sound of a lock being unlatched. The door swung open, and he was met with blue eyes.

“Hello James.”


	8. The Tiny Broken Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun one to write. I was throwing around ideas for this bit since the beginning of the whole story writing process, because it's such a pivotal moment between the two. It could go one way, or another, and I didn't want to write the same stagnant "fight/leave/show up/romantic declaration of love and forgiveness" that's been done a million times. Not to say that it won't ever happen, I just wanted to deviate from it in the way that I tend to do. Anyways! Enough rambling. Go forth, read. Let me know what you think about this, so I can improve it if need be. 
> 
> And another heartfelt thanks for every view, comment or kudos. You truly don't know how appreciative I am for all of it. This started out as something to pass the time, and now it's grown into something I never predicted. Thank you.
> 
> Harsh language in this chapter as well.

The door was left ajar, and James, oh god, the look on his face would haunt Jeremy for the rest of his life. It would flash behind his eyelids as he lay in bed, fighting his insomnia tooth and nail. James looked as though he’d opened the door to see a corpse laid out like Sunday dinner on his steps. He went from a curious sort of expression, not expecting anyone to be knocking on his door, to something more akin to grief. Jeremy watched as the lines around his eyes grew deeper, his face sobering into a grimace, his baby blue’s growing dark and angry like Jeremy had never seen them before. James said nothing, only blinking, as if trying to convince himself the six foot seven man standing on his front porch was real, and not some sort of horrible apparition come to ruin his life any further. Jeremy did not move, or speak, or even breathe, standing there watching James try and process the information he’d just received. James began to shake his head minutely, still looking at Jeremy, before his eyes dropped to the floor, still wide and unfocused, now murmuring something Jeremy couldn’t hear. He began to lift an arm, to reach out and try to reassure James in some way, but dropped it when James backed away, still murmuring under his breath.

“ _No, no no no.”_

Jeremy immediately began to panic, his fears now confirmed in front of his eyes as James backed further into the house, his ‘no’s’ growing louder in volume as he slammed the front door. The sinking cold feeling of dismay raced through every vein in his body, numbing him from the inside out. Jeremy could hear him yelling inside, the sound of him pacing through the house screaming “ _NO_!” at the top of his lungs, making all the dishes inside rattle in their places. The sound of a plate smashing was next, followed by a few slams and another smash. Jeremy pounded on the door, bellowing to the man inside.

“James! Stop it! Let me in, please, we’ll talk about this!” He begged, fists hammering on the thick wooden door. James ignored his pleading, still yelling loud enough that his voice was beginning to go hoarse. Jeremy banged again, slamming his eyes shut.

“Please, James. Please. I’m begging you, let me in. I need to…make things better.” He pleaded to the door, to the man inside who was furiously pacing in his tiny kitchen. “Please James….” Jeremy bellowed out, leaning his forehead against the door, a racking sob escaping his lips. He couldn’t bare it anymore, letting out the guilt and anger at himself, tears flowing down his cheeks, dropping in grey puddles on the concrete step. He ached so fiercely that he felt it in his bones; every fiber of his body feeling as though it was being pulled apart at the same time. He sunk to his knees, fists still resting against the door, crying steadily now.

The yelling from inside the house slowed, decreased in volume and eventually ceased, leaving only the sound of James marching to the front door, before it was wrenched open, nearly ripped from it’s hinges. Jeremy peered up at James through watery eyes before standing slowly, his aching knees making his movements unsteady. James’ face was streaked with tears, eyes bloodshot and angry, scrutinizing the man standing slightly hunched in front of him. Jeremy stood up straight to meet James’ eyes, his eyes pooling with tears, silently begging James to let him in, even if he wouldn’t let him speak.

“Please James,” Jeremy whispered, voice wavering, “let me in. I just want to make things better.”

James stared for a moment longer before quickly stepping aside, silently. Jeremy picked his bags up and walked inside, the door shutting solidly behind him. He didn’t have time to take in the inside of the house before he was slammed against the door, his aching back hitting wood with a thud that rocked the door frame. James had him pinned against the wood by his shoulders, eyes furious staring him down.

“What the _fuck were you thinking Clarkson?!_ Just fucking showing up on my doorstep, expecting what? _What the fuck did you think would happen!”_ James screamed the last bit, shoving Jeremy by the shoulders once more. “Why the fuck do you think I left? _Why the fuck do you think I ran as far as I could?”_

Jeremy shook his head.

“To get away from me.”

James laughed, throwing his head back, his bark echoing in Jeremy’s ears. “And you thought it’d be a good idea to what, fly hours to show up unannounced on my step and beg forgiveness? You should have thought about that when the words were leaving your fucking mouth Clarkson. Not now.”

James stepped backwards, letting Jeremy go, and turned into his kitchen. He picked up a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes off the table and headed for the back door, slamming it shut as he went. Jeremy remained where he was, breathing heavily. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to go like this, played out like a car crash on a highway for all the passersby to see. Jeremy had spent so many wasted hours believing in that hopeful way of his that James wouldn’t be so angry anymore. The back door was opened again, and James threw his pack back onto the table amidst the remnants of several plates and a glass, his lighter clattering noisily.

“You can stay the night. Tomorrow morning I want you out. Understood?” He croaked out, not looking at Jeremy, who nodded, before realizing James couldn’t see him.

“Alright. Can I at least talk…tell you what I flew all this way to say?”

James said nothing as he opened a cupboard and pulled out an unshattered mug and flicked the kettle on. Jeremy took the silence as a chance to continue, and so he did.

“Look, I know what I said was wrong. I’m not going to come here and lie to your face about that. I can admit that what I said was horrible and cowardly and wrong, but what I did afterwards was worse. I let you go. I’m not a strong man James, I never have been. All of the people I cared about I let slip through my fingers because of mistakes I’ve made. They were just blips in the past, things that came and went and I never lost sleep about it because I’m selfish. You…” he sighed, dropping his hands against his leg, “you were different. You never put up with my bullshit and told me when I was being a twat and I pushed too fucking hard. I took you for granted James.”

James remained silent through the apology, stirring his tea with his back to Jeremy.

“I took the one person who stood my bullshit for as long as I can remember for granted, and I apologize. You were there when the others came and went. It took me losing you for what seemed like good to see that. Please James, I’m not asking for forgiveness, just…I was scared.”

This made James turn, and regard Jeremy for the first time that night.

“Scared of what?” James asked.

“Scared that you’d be the next one in a long line of others. That if I…told you, you’d end up leaving like all the others did, getting tired of my fucking antics. I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t just deluding myself, that I really did…care. That how I felt wasn’t…” He trailed off, unable to say it aloud, as if the words would be cast in stone if he allowed them to be spoken.

James snorted and turned again, pulling his teabag by the string in his mug.

“Don’t try and placate me Jeremy. You don’t have to lie to preserve my feelings. I shouldn’t have, I dunno, been so transparent in the first place.”

“God fucking damn it, James listen to me. I wasn’t the most transparent person in the world either. You know how hard this is for me.”

“Oh I imagine it’s eating away at your insides right now. So I’ll spare you the trouble. You can sleep on the couch, I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that James took his mug from where it sat on the counter and left the room, shutting the door to his bedroom.

Jeremy stood in James’ kitchen for what felt like hours but was more likely minutes, unable to catch his breath. He was numb, the feeling in his body slowly evaporating through his pores until he was nothing but a breathing bag of bones and skin and nicotine. He wanted to scream, to yell until James had no choice but to come out and forgive him, to wrap his arms around him and tell him it would be alright, that he would be alright. It was his turn to be trapped under the bed, panicking so badly his breath would escape his body with no intention to return. He was immediately transported back to the hotel room in Argentina, his body made up of pins and needles from laying on the floor for so long. The world was dark and silent and falling apart before his eyes, and he was just a man, just a tiny man in the grand scheme of things who couldn’t pick the pieces he’d broken and put them right. He found his way to the couch, sitting down heavily.

The house smelled like James, it felt like James, and Jeremy hated it. He hated that it was so perfectly like James in it’s methodically coordinated chaos, that it was made and furnished and lived in without him, without him being included. He hated that he still kept the key to James’ old flat on his ring, clinging to the final scrap of James’ life he’d still been included in. He fell asleep sitting up, forgetting that he shouldn’t be able to sleep.

James lay on top of his sheets, still fully clothed. He didn’t move, only blinking because his eyes were raw from crying, and they burned if he left them open for too long. Things weren’t supposed to happen this way, they weren’t supposed to crash and burn so violently in front of his eyes, like the smoldering wreck of the Cessna that his life had become. He told Richard he was leaving and he meant it, he’d meant for it to be seamless and unattached, under the intention that Jeremy wanted nothing to do with him any longer, and he was fine with that. Jeremy wasn’t supposed to be here, ever, let alone lying on his couch. James shut his eyes, pleading for the bed to swallow him up. He rolled onto his side, facing the door, the light from the kitchen forcing it’s way through the door frame. He thought about laying under that hotel bed for hours, feeling the exact same panic he felt now, only this time he didn’t have arms wrapped around him, or a voice telling him it’d all be okay. James didn’t believe him then, and he certainly didn’t believe him now, even when the words cycled in his head.

The part that burned the most was the voice in his head that wanted to forgive Jeremy, that wanted to so desperately hear the words he was going to say in the kitchen, aching for them to be the words that James had so long wanted to hear uttered from Jeremy’s lips. For so long he’d imagined Jeremy telling him he felt the same, the scenarios played out in his mind on an endless loop, and now that it had almost happened, he felt cheated. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not a cheapened occurrence that wasn’t at all like he’d planned, made up of a patchwork of words that both men wanted to hear but couldn’t bring themselves to admit out loud. He eventually fell asleep, pleading for the sun not to rise. Tomorrow could wait for as long as it liked, he decided, because he knew he was not strong enough to deal with what it brought.


	9. The War Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took far too long to get written. Holidays mean terrible work hours and time away and I had zero creativity left in me to write. Now that things are back to normal, I can finally write again. I apologize for the wait. I hope that this chapter makes up for it. Fall Out Boy's "Irresistible" was on repeat as I wrote this, I think the lyrics fit so well. It's inspired me this chapter, and for the next ones coming. Enjoy.

He woke slowly, his senses coming back one at a time. First, he breathed in deeply, inhaling the sultry smell of freshly ground coffee, the earthy beans permeating the air of kitchen, floating over to where he slept. He then heard the sound of feet pattering against the hardwood floor; James must be up then, fiddling about in the pantry. Jeremy then opened his eyes, blinking the bleary haze away, trying to focus on James. He glanced at the clock on the oven; the blurry illuminated numbers telling him it was well after noon. A stretch lead to a cracking sound, followed by a series of alarming pops from his bones, his neck aching from being slumped over for hours. The last thing to return to him after his sleep was the memory of last night, hitting him like a truck and making his stomach turn uneasily in his gut. He had to remain hopeful that James would eventually break down and listen to him, and if it didn’t happen today, it would happen eventually. Whenever eventually turned out to be. And that was if James didn’t kick him out first. Without turning to look at Jeremy, James spoke from the kitchen.

“You’re up late.”

“Hard to let go of the comfort one has sleeping slumped over on a sofa,” he sighed out, “apologies.”

James said nothing as he pulled a clean coffee mug out from one of the cupboards, putting it next to the sugar bowl. Jeremy took this as an offer, standing to walk stiffly into the kitchen. He stood silently next to James, who was buttering up slices of toast, pouring his coffee quickly before walking over to the front window, mug and plate held in his hands. The sky was dark, heavy clouds beginning to roll into view just past the edge of the lake, making it seem much later than it actually was. He could see a few thick flakes of snow falling, being shoved around aimlessly by the strong wind Jeremy heard whipping against the outside of the house. A storm was brewing outside, and Jeremy subconsciously pulled his unbuttoned shirt around himself just a little tighter.

“Looks like it's about to storm." He murmured, trying to break the now incredibly awkward silence that had crept up among them while he peered out the window. James didn't reply, looking at something on a laptop he'd set on the kitchen table

"Quite a view you’ve got here.” Jeremy tried again, voice muffled slightly as he took a sip of coffee. James hummed noncommittally from the other side of the room, making Jeremy look away from the window. “Still not speaking to me?”

James said nothing, giving Jeremy the answer he wanted.

That’s awfully grade school of you James, the silent treatment? Really?” He bit out, before thinking about his words.

The sound of a mug slamming down echoed through the kitchen. “You see, Clarkson. Your smart fucking mouth is what got you into trouble the first time. You think you’d learn, but no.” James stood, draining the last drops of coffee and dropping the mug into the sink, “You never learn. You come in here, cling to my front door, and then into my home, unannounced, and still have the nerve to act stubborn?”

Jeremy said nothing, as hurt sprawled like blood from a nosebleed across his face. James shook his head as he grabbed his jacket, hat and gloves, putting them on hurriedly. Jeremy remained silent, watching. When he headed for the front door, Jeremy spoke up.

“Where are you going? It's getting bad out there...” He asked, not really expecting a response.

“Out. Shit needs to get done around here and fighting with you isn’t going to do any of it.” James answered, punctuating his exit with the door shutting loudly. Jeremy exhaled, groaning. He decided on the spot that in the future, if anyone asked if he had hobbies, fucking up would be his first response.

 

* * *

 

James headed around the house to where he’d kept the logs he used for the fire stacked. Wood needed to get chopped, and considering the mood he was in, he figured now would be as good a time as any, regardless of the imminent snowstorm that loomed in the atmosphere above him.

He arranged the wood just so on an old tree stump, and picked up the heavy axe, fingers flexing tightly against the solid handle in his palms. Swinging up, he sent it crashing down with probably more force than needed to split it, but he didn’t care. Every log chopped sent more anger coursing through his veins, feeling the heat of irritation lacing his blood like a venom. Jeremy needed to go, and it had to happen soon because every moment he spent in James’ house was a moment too long. Each piece of splintered wood became a bit of Jeremy he hated, sent careening into the snow crunching beneath his feet by the axe he swung wildly. The first one was his smart mouth, the second his complete lack of regard, and the third was his arrogance. By the time James stopped to catch his breath, the pile of logs had been reduced to nothing but a few leftover pieces that were too small to bother chopping. He dropped the axe into the snow, the thud not registering over the pounding ocean roar his blood made in his ears, and the panting breaths he took. He was beyond satisfied with what he’d done, in the sick way that destruction works. He’d destroyed what he hated, every bit of Jeremy that made him sick cut down to size, a size he could easily manage with a bit of fire.

He inhaled deeply, the frosty air hurting his lungs as he pulled it in. He felt much more human than when he’d left the house. Pulling his smokes out of his coat pocket, he brushed away the splinters of wood and sat on the tree stump he’d been chopping the wood on, and lit the cigarette, pulling the nicotine deep into his lungs. The sky was entirely grey now, and the wind had become strong enough to wrench the cigarette out from between his fingers. He squinted, trying to see where land ended and the lake began, but the flurries made it nearly impossible. He stood, deciding that dealing with Clarkson would almost,  _almost_ , be better than freezing to death in the Canadian wilderness.

James knew he wasn’t a fighter by nature, the furthest thing from it, in fact. He’d been a presenter with the two firstly, but acted as a mediator for them the rest of the time, stopping drunken brawls and boardroom meltdowns. But Jeremy, and his fucking irritating ways, always managed to completely erase any sense of calm sanity he so proudly possessed, turning him into just as much of a snarling menace that Jeremy was. He quietly laughed to himself as he tapped the ash away from the cherry of the smoke, he really was just as bad as Jeremy, he was just better at concealing it most of the time. He was a weapon, a loaded .22 handgun, but one that remained locked under the tempered glass of a gun cabinet in the safety of a locked room.

Flicking the now finished butt, he stood, brushing wood pieces from his pants. Heading back to the house, he prepared himself. He wasn’t the one looking for a fight, but he’d fight back if he needed to, regardless of how badly he didn’t want to.

The cold metal of the doorknob stung even from under the padding of his gloves, but he turned the handle anyways.

 

* * *

 

When he entered the house, Jeremy was still standing in the kitchen, his back to James. He was making coffee, pouring the fresh pot into the mug James had forgotten he'd left for him, and when he heard James enter the room, turned to face him.

“We need to talk.” James said, brushing the flakes of snow out of his hair as he toed his heavy boots off. He placed them on a mat by the door, before they had the chance to leave a puddle.

Jeremy blinked, once, twice, before nodding. He placed the mug on the counter, abandoning the boiling kettle. James sat down at the table, and Jeremy sat across from him, looking panicked, as if he knew what was coming.

“I know this is going to be hard for you to do, considering, but imagine yourself in my shoes. You show up at my doorstep, begging for forgiveness. What did you honestly expect me to say Jeremy, _really_?”

“I…don’t know.” Jeremy admitted, shrugging his broad shoulders. “I really don’t.”

“Why did you do it then? Why come all this way if you had the slightest doubt that I’d tell you to sod off and slam the door in your face?”

“I wanted to at least try...to make things right that is. I know I fucked up James, I do. I couldn’t live with myself if I never tried to remedy what I did.”

James looked at him with tired eyes, sighing. Jeremy had a tenacity that was unmatched by anyone James had ever met, and clearly it never died. The fact that he was sitting in James’ kitchen, hundred of miles away from London solidified that he supposed. James wanted to kick him out, he did, but the small part of him that still cared, regardless of how hard he’d tried to extinguish it still burned.

“What you did was the deepest hurt I could imagine. I didn’t tell you how I felt about you, even after Argentina, because I wanted to avoid…well, what you ended up doing anyway.”

“James, I…how, how long did you…” Jeremy asked hesitantly.

“The day we finished filming the first series.” He answered bluntly. Jeremy’s mouth dropped, his expression changing into shock.

“Why didn’t you tell me James?” Jeremy sighed dropping his hands on the table. “I would have…” he trailed off.

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Please James,” Jeremy begged, “let me stay. Let me try and put things right.”

James closed his eyes. That annoying bit of him that still cared about Jeremy, even after all this woke up at his words. Maybe they could fix this, whatever it was they had between them.

The words left his mouth before he registered them fully, shutting his mouth with a firm ‘click’ of his teeth when he did.

“You can stay. Just…” he raised his palms to the older man, “don’t expect me to instantly forgive you. And besides, I'm not flying anywhere in this storm.”

“I don’t James, trust me. I…thank you. _Really, thank you._ ”

James waved his hands at Jeremy, stopping his sentence. “You really know how to hurt me, you know that?”

Jeremy looked at him sheepishly, guilt flooding up behind his eyes.

James continued, almost speaking as if Jeremy wasn’t in the room, let alone sitting a few feet away from him.

“I don’t know why I let you get away with so much, I really don’t. You fuck up and I just take it and move along. I should have put a stop to this years ago, but I’m a fucking daft idiot.” He ran his hands through wavy grey strands, eyes looking blearily at the table. “I can control so many things, place them where I need them to be, but you? I can’t put you down anywhere, there’s no designated place for you. I should be the one hung onto a wall, left to collect dust when I tried for years to do it to you.”

Jeremy was silent, for once in his goddamn life, and when James looked up, he felt his breath catch. James looked at him through pleading eyes, speaking softly.

“I can’t let you go.”

 

* * *

 

When James lay in his bed that night, he found himself once again begging to be invisible. Jeremy shouldn’t be laying in his sitting room, or staying in his house, or even in Canada. He should be in London where he was far away enough from James that he couldn’t still make him ache like he did. James hated himself for still caring, for still wanting Jeremy to stay more than he wanted him to get the hell away. He hated himself for hoping they could fix their friendship, to make something else work. For a man who spent most of his life feeling like the physical embodiment of a shadow, he certainly had enough baggage.

When James was younger, his mother had a habit of summoning him when she thought he’d been alone with his toys for long enough, asking him to help with the cooking. As he stood on the small wooden step stool his dad had crafted the summer before, stirring the broth on the burner, she peeled the potatoes in the sink. She would tell him that he was special, and one day he’d find someone just as special as he was, and they’d be happy. She told him he was so easy to love, and that even though he was too young to understand what love really was, ( _“No James, not your wind up car!”)_ he’d find someone who was just as loveable for himself. Her soft voice echoed in his ears, reminding him that love was a four-letter word that you felt, instead of just read on paper.

He was old enough now to realize that it was a four-letter word.

_Hell._

 


	10. The Capers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day, I will write at a reasonable pace. Until then, well...who knows. All I can say is enjoy. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it.

Jeremy was the first to wake, back stiff from the slightly lumpy couch that his feet hung off of when he lay flat. He had been exiled to the couch years ago by someone far away and forgotten, the thought of her pushed to the back of his mind to make room for what she used to refer to as “endless car nonsense”, forgetting that his car nonsense was what kept the lights on and the water running. The irony of being stuck sleeping on a couch again wasn’t lost on him, only this time he genuinely cared about finally fixing whatever it was that got him there in the first place.

Once his empty coffee mug was scrubbed and left to dry did he decide on a shower, hoping it would clear his head like it normally did. The last few days had left him not only physically worn out (he thanked the couch for that), but mentally, and he hoped a long hot shower would soothe his aching bones. Rummaging through his luggage, he found what he needed before heading into the tiny bathroom. The shower itself was little more than a glorified box stuffed into the corner, and for a moment he was convinced he wouldn’t fit. Once the hot water hit him, any doubts he had about the shower were lost along with the endless ache he’d felt. He shut his eyes, and let the water roll off him.

 

* * *

 

James woke slowly, at the same pace as the early morning light that flowed through the blinds and rolled in over his sheets, bringing his consciousness along with it. He lay in bed and listened for a moment, straining to hear if Jeremy was awake yet, and could only hear the wind, still battering the outside of the house. Brushing the hair out of his eyes, he sat up. He needed a piss, a quick shower and some coffee, knowing he should have been flying out to town, but the storm would be keeping him grounded. Now that there were two grown men in the house, the amount of food James had was steadily depleting, along with his supply of cigarettes, which he agreed were just as important as food. He had just woken up and already knew he wasn’t in the mood to force conversation, but flying out was a priority. He groaned as he got out of bed, telling himself it was because of the idea of conversations, and not his knees.

Deciding that coffee could wait until after his shower, he headed towards the bathroom. He still didn’t hear Jeremy moving around in the kitchen, assuming he was still asleep somewhere. When he opened the bathroom door, he was met with a half naked Jeremy, with only a towel tied around his waist and a face full of steam. Surprised, James’ eyes went wide, quickly stepping backwards into the hallway, bumping into the wall behind him. Catching himself, he forced his eyes back to Jeremy’s, who looked just as surprised to see James.

“Fuck! Sorry, I…didn’t know you were up. You were so quiet and I didn’t – sorry, I didn’t hear you and uh, did you want some coffee? I was just about to make a pot. Sorry.” James spluttered, purposely not looking at Jeremy, who had the decency to attempt to throw on the shirt he’d left on the counter. Jeremy didn’t have time to reply, as James had already escaped to the kitchen, and was leaning against the counter attempting to recollect his thoughts.

Jeremy stood stunned for a moment, unsure of what had just happened. When he was decent, he left the bathroom and headed towards the kitchen, his wet hair dripping onto his shirt, leaving dark spots along his back. James wasn’t making coffee like he said he’d be, but was instead standing on the front porch smoking. Jeremy grabbed his coat and opened the front door. James didn’t turn around as he put the cigarette between his fingers up to his lips, inhaling deeply while Jeremy fished his pack out of his pocket, lit one, and went to stand next to him. The sun was nonexistent, the clouds still making everything grey and dim. The wind had died down slightly, but the snow hadn't. In one night, what must have been four feet of snow had accumulated, nearly burying the front porch in a white blanket, smooth undisturbed by footsteps. Heavy flakes continued to fall, and Jeremy watched the way they danced in the smoke he exhaled into the sky.

Jeremy cleared his throat, suddenly feeling awkward. “You alright? I guess I should have made more noise or something.” He asked, looking sideways at James, who stared out into the trees.

“I’m fine, you just…caught me off guard. I’m so used to living alone that I forget sometimes you know? I’ll knock next time.” James replied, still not looking at Jeremy.

“It’s entirely understandable…look, I know you’re probably sick of hearing this, but I wanted to thank you again.” Jeremy murmured, smoke trickling out from between his lips.

“For what?”

“For letting me stay. I, I know it’s hard for you, and I just…appreciate it. I just want to make things better, you know? I had so much time while you were gone to think about how much I need you in my life, and how I couldn’t let you go either. It took the thought of me pushing you so far away to get myself off my self-pitying ass to come find you.” He scrubbed at his face with his free hand before continuing. “I thought you knew, I thought that night made it obvious.”

James turned to face Jeremy.

“Made what obvious?” He asked, tapping the cigarette with his finger. “The night you arrived you made it pretty fucking clear that the thought of anything between us was hard to process.”

Jeremy sighed. “I should have told you.”

“Yeah, you should have. This would all have been avoided if you’d acted like a fucking grown up for once in your life.” James spat back.

“Look, James. I’m not nearly as open with my…. _feelings…_ as you are. It took a long fucking time for me to differentiate between the friendship line and the…” Jeremy trailed off.

“Look at you! You can’t even say it! What the fuck are we going to accomplish if you can’t even bring yourself to say the word partner, or boyfriend for that matter? I’ve known you for far too long Clarkson to be able to tell when you’re ashamed of something, so don’t think you’re pulling any wool over me.” James retorted, finally turning to face Jeremy.

“What the fuck did you want me to say? “ _Oh sorry James, I hate to be a bother, but it seems I’m quite infatuated with you and would like to pursue a romantic homosexual relationship even though I have a superior amount of emotional baggage, and have never thought that way about a man in my fifty four years of living?”_ Jeremy replied.

“No, you git, I just wanted some fucking honesty.”

Jeremy stood silently for a moment, glaring at James. He took one final drag off his nearly extinguished cigarette before flinging it over the railing and into a snow bank. He stepped towards James, speaking low, until their faces were millimeters away.

“You’re a moron, May. You know that? And this is about as honest as I can get.”

He put both hands on James’ face, feeling days worth of stubble under his fingertips. He gently pulled it towards his, their lips meeting in the middle. His eyes fell shut, not noticing James’ do the same. James’s body immediately stiffened, but didn’t move, because of shock or something else, Jeremy didn’t know. Though they were tight with surprise, James’ lips were soft beneath Jeremy’s, his mouth tasting like smoke and cold air. Jeremy’s fingers still rested on James’ face, connecting them gently, and without any consequence or hesitation. He licked at James’ lips, still pressed together anxiously, coaxing them open beneath his tongue, until he could slip it in just a tiny bit more. James’ hands left their place at his side and found Jeremy’s hips, flexing once before pulling him closer with strong fingers that gripped through his jacket, until their fronts were pressed together entirely. James opened his mouth further, finally allowing their tongues to finally meet, a sharp inhale ripping through James when they did.

Jeremy let out a breathy moan, quiet enough that the ambiance of their surroundings would have swallowed it up, if James hadn’t got to it first. Jeremy moaned again, louder this time, when he felt James deepen the kiss, his tongue finally moving against his, trying to take control of the kiss. Jeremy moved his fingers from where they rested against James’ rough cheek and threaded themselves into his hair, curling and tugging gently. This time it was James who groaned, his hands balling into fists around Jeremy’s coat, almost wishing he couldn’t feel the fabric, but skin instead.

They both needed to breathe, and it was James who broke the kiss, releasing Jeremy’s coat and stepping backwards, inhaling deeply as he did. When Jeremy finally opened his eyes, they were dark, the clear blue now more of a navy, his pupils blown out. For a moment they said nothing, staring at each other while they caught their shaky breaths. The cold air bit at the inside of their throats, feeling like water in their lungs as they pulled it down. He wondered if James could hear how loudly his heart beat in his chest.

James broke the silence, stepping closer to Jeremy as he spoke, not breaking eye contact.

“You have wet hair and it’s below freezing out here. You’re going to catch pneumonia you idiot, go inside.” He said as he turned Jeremy around by his shoulders and pushed him towards the door. Jeremy laughed, and obeyed, stepping inside the warm house with a shiver.

 

* * *

“I really should go into town today, and the earlier the better.” James murmured from across the kitchen to Jeremy, who sat at the kitchen table playing Bejeweled on his phone. James tried not to think about what had just happened, what he had let happen, on his front porch, but every time he licked his lips he tasted Jeremy, which rendered his struggle pointless. He tasted of coffee, heady cigarette smoke and something that he couldn't place, but knew was just simply Jeremy.

He shivered at the thought of Jeremy’s hands threaded through his hair, and how long he’d prayed for them to be there. He wanted Jeremy to tangle them in amongst the waves and pull up, forcing him to look up at him and _woah, woah slow down. This is not where this should be going, James. Christ. You kiss the man and now you’re fantasizing about…that? Fuck._

James shook his head, hoping the force would dislodge any and all thoughts he had in it. Jeremy looked up from his game, one eyebrow raised.

“You can't be serious.” He said, giving James a funny look. "Look at it outside!"

James sighed, peering further out the kitchen window, observing the overcast sky with a frown. He did a mental tally of what he had in the cupboards, and how long it would last, now that it was being split among two grown men. He decided that it would be alright for two more days, but anything more than that would be pushing it. He could handle being slightly hungry, but Jeremy certainly wouldn't

"I'm not going anywhere, it'd be suicide to fly in this weather." A few dings could be heard coming from Jeremy's phone, his gaze now averted back to the small screen and James watched amusedly, as he mashed his fingers against the glass.

"We'll just have to occupy ourselves for a night, and see how tomorrow fares." 

Jeremy hummed thoughtfully, and James could hear the smirk on his face without having to look up. 

 

 

* * *

 

James had been typing for what felt like hours and his eyes began to go blurry around the edges, his back screaming in protest when he straightened up out of the hunched position he'd slid in to. A groan slipped out of his throat as he stretched, making his back crack loudly. He placed his laptop down on the table with care, not bothering to close the lid, and stood.

"Jezza, are you still playing Bejewelled?" He asked, squinting to see Jeremy still sitting at the kitchen table, his face illuminated by the screen he still clutched. Jeremy nodded, humming an affirmative, before yawning loudly.

As James disappeared down the hallway, to what was presumably the bathroom after three cups of coffee that Jeremy had kindly supplied him with as he typed away, Jeremy stood, stretching in the same manner as James. When his bones had popped loudly and settled into their respectful places, his eyes turned to the laptop still sitting on the table. Checking to make sure James was still occupied, he tilted the screen back to see what had kept James' attention. 

A word document was opened on the screen, full of half finished poems. Jeremy started at the top, eyes scanning the sentences with rapt attention. The sound of James coughing lightly behind him had him snapping up straight, eyes looking guilty. He put on his best 'sorry' face and James just rolled his eyes.

"You wrote all that?"

James nodded.

"It's.." Jeremy hesitated, pausing to find the right words. "It's actually quite good James, really good. And you know how I feel about that poncey drivel." Jeremy conceded, making James flush red slightly. "What are you doing with it?"

"Anthology of some sort I suppose, if I even bother anymore. It was something to do on quiet nights, but seeing as I'm now preoccupied with other things..." James replied, trailing off, moving over to pick up the laptop, saving the document he'd been working on before shutting the lid. Jeremy watched him with careful eyes, his gaze following the man as if he was looking at him for the first time again, unsure of who he was actually staring at. Leave it to James to be full of surprises.

"I knew you enjoyed reading it, never thought you'd write it though." Jeremy spoke quietly, still watching as James clutched the laptop under his arm as he moved towards the fireplace, adding a log of firewood to the burning pile that he'd started hours ago. The dim light of the fireplace filled the small room, making their shadows dance and bend as they moved, each flame licking against the wood making thin tendrils of smoke drift around them and settle in their hair, leaving nothing but the smell of fire. Jeremy watched as the glow of the fire covered James in warm orange light.

It was in that moment, that Jeremy knew he'd fallen in love with James, entirely and whole-heartedly.

 

 

* * *

 

“You sure you didn’t bribe the guy at the office to just _give_ you one? A pilot’s license that is.”

James snorted as he put a coffee mug down in front of Jeremy, pulling his phone out of his back pocket before he sat. “No Jeremy, I didn’t. Besides, I’m a good pilot.”

“Let me come with you then, prove it to me. From what I know, two hour pre-flight checks don’t constitute aerial skills James.” Jeremy replied, grinning. James tried to look put out, but couldn’t help grinning back. James was hunched over, packing a small bag to take with him on the flight into town. The snow had stopped overnight, and while the sky wasn't clear, it certainly wasn't as bad as it'd been. Considering they'd eaten a dinner of crisps and pot noodles from the back of James' cupboard, it was becoming clear he had to fly in today.

“Why do you need to come? It’s a small town Jez, there’s barely anything there.” He sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’ll hate it.”

“I need stuff.” Jeremy said, attention focused on his game again, his large finger swiping the screen.

“Like what?”

“Cigarettes. And wine, _good wine that is”_ He answered quickly, stifling James’ interruption of “ _We have good wine, you’re just daft_.”

When James said nothing, Jeremy looked up, his eyes wide and pleading. “Please? Being stuck in here is starting to drive me crazy. Maybe I’ll go homicidal, you never know.”

James groaned and rolled his eyes. “Fine, you can come. Just…don’t be irritating.”

Jeremy grinned smugly.

 

* * *

 

The car never stopped, even when he thought it would. He thought it would come skidding to a halt in front of him, and it would all be fine. No, the feeling of every bone in his body grinding together simultaneously assured him that the car certainly didn’t stop. It collided with his left side, fracturing his arm on impact, but who was he to tell? He felt like every breath he’d ever breathe in his life was forced out of him at once. He ended up half under the car, half peering up at the front bumper, which was now slightly dented. He could vaguely hear the car door open, driver side, and see feet plant themselves on the concrete beside his head. Arms appeared, and grabbed his upper arms, patting him gently, hesitantly. He tried to inhale through his nose, but a sick gurgling sound was all that happened. He was aware of the stringy blood that now stained the front of his shirt, but wasn’t sure what part of him it was coming from. He tried to move, to force his eyes to focus and sit up, but his brain hurt and he couldn’t focus on anything other than the pain. He curled in on himself, letting his body go limp on the floor in front of the car again. He coughed violently, and more blood painted the floor.

He waited, body tense, unable to hear. For a moment, everything stopped, the pain, the blood, and it was silent except for the ringing in his ears and the pitiful gurgling sound he still made when he tried to breathe in. Hands frantically grabbed his shoulders, but this time without the hesitation. Large warm palms dragged themselves down his chest, and onto his hips, and he felt himself being turned onto his back. Cracking an eye open, he saw greying waves and bright, terrified eyes, and a mouth moving but without any sound. Why couldn’t he hear? It hurt too much to strain, so he shut his eyes again instead.

 

* * *

 

The room was dim when he finally opened his eyes, slowly, until he became adjusted to the lack of light. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to blink. It hurt to do anything, so he did nothing. He ached everywhere, but at least he could breathe without drowning. The first thing that registered in his head was the steady _beep beep beep_ of the IV monitor, and he knew he must be in the hospital. His couch at James’ was far less flat and lumpy anyways. He laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling until he couldn’t stand the way his chest rattled when his heart beat, and he rolled onto his side, away from the door. The room was empty, and if you asked him if he was upset, he’d blame the new pain in his chest on being hit by a moving car. But he’d be lying. The chair that hospitals always have near the bed was unoccupied, but he wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see in it anyways. He sighed gently enough that his bones didn’t ache, and instead focused on the sound of footsteps approaching outside his room. The door opened quietly, and he heard someone walk in, shutting the door behind them. Pretending to be asleep, he furrowed his brow and quickly shut his eyes, not feeling like speaking to anyone yet anyway, least of all James.Well, once again their evening ended spectacularly, and Jeremy was a battered, bruised mess. :eave it to him to fly thousands of miles, only to end up in the emergency room.

The sound of his name being called gently snapped him out of his angry thoughts, and he held his breath, but knew full well that James could tell he was awake. His breathing mustn’t be exactly even or something, who knows. Again, a soft voice called “ _Jeremy?”_ and this time he opened his eyes just a sliver. “ _Jeremy look…I, apologize. I shouldn’t have let you to come with me. You don’t deserve to be in here. You should have stayed back at home…I mean, the house. Fuck…I’m so sorry.”_

The light from the small lamp on the table beside Jeremy’s bed illuminated nothing, but instead cast long dark shadows over everything. He slowly opened his eyes, surprised by the apology coming from the man who shouldn't ever have to apologize to Jeremy again. “ _I shouldn’t have let you get hurt, Jeremy.”_ He swallowed, fully aware of the hurt in James’ voice. The warm light from the lamp glowed steadily, illuminating the damage done. His eyes were black and bruised, sunken sullenly into his face. The bridge of his nose and cheeks were stained purple, like spilled wine. A cut under his eye, one between his eyes, he was a mess.

Breathing in, he turned so he lay on his back, and met the eyes of the man finally sitting in the ugly chair by the door. He looked almost as bad as Jeremy did, cheeks sunken and eyes dark. The bags under his eyes told Jeremy he hadn’t been sleeping and the stubble clinging to his chin and cheeks made him look even worse. Jeremy blinked a few times, still looking at James, who looked ready to burst into tears, which frightened Jeremy to no end. James didn’t cry. He was a rock, cold, and unmoving.

He registered that James was apologizing, and profusely at that. But he still couldn’t figure out why. He knew where he was, and how he got there, but why was he not back at James’? Jeremy tried to think back, to remember what happened before he met the front end of a car with his face. Thinking hurt, a lot, and he groaned, making James look up.

“James…It kills me to say this, but even your couch is more comfortable than this glorified piece of cardboard.” He croaked out, eyes shut again.

“Jezza, you were hit by a car. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember that bit far too well. Remind me why we flew into town again?"

James sighed. “We needed shit, food and toilet paper and cigarettes. I was just gonna fly out myself, but you insisted on coming. You said that the cabin was giving you 'homicidal thoughts' and forced me to bring you with”, James replied, adding the finger quotes. Jeremy smiled, but kept his eyes shut. “I should have made you stay. How the fuck was I supposed to know you’d get pissy and storm away? I mean, I should expect it by now but…”

“I walked out? From the…” Jeremy trailed off.

“Corner store,” James finished, “after calling me a pompous git for not buying the brand of asswipe you like, or forgetting to pick up capers, which for the record they didn’t even carry. You said you were going out for a smoke, and left. I heard the tires screech, and the rest…you know.”

Jeremy was silent for a moment.

“I kissed you.” He blurted out.

James froze.

“Uh, yeah…you did.”

“You kissed me back.” Jeremy stated, to which James nodded minutely, forgetting Jeremy’s eyes were closed.

“Yes, I did.”

“You were apologizing, just now...I thought I was the one who should still be apologizing.”

“Jeremy-” James started, but Jeremy interrupted.

“…Are you still mad at me?” He asked softly.

“God Jeremy of course not.” James sighed out. “I stopped being mad the night after you arrived. It’s not to say that I wasn’t ever mad, because I was, _really fucking mad_ , but…you coming all this way, it changed things.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I think it changed you. I don’t think the old you would have bothered.”

“I lose _everything_ , James. You watched Francie walk away with the kids, you watched me lose my _house_ , and my _job_ , and nearly my life. And when I fucked things up with you, I didn’t want… _couldn’t…_ lose you too.” He choked out, grimacing when he tried to move.

James stood from where he sat, and walked to Jeremy’s bedside. He leaned forward, his palms on Jeremy’s shoulders, and placed a gentle kiss on Jeremy’s forehead, careful not to put pressure on anywhere that ached. When he pulled back, he found that Jeremy’s hand was wrapped around his wrist, clutching tightly. Jeremy’s eyes were wide, and glassy as they swept over James’ familiar face, memorizing every line. James smiled, making Jeremy smile as well.

“Are you going?” Jeremy questioned, worry creeping over his face, as he let go of his grasp on James’ arm.

James said nothing as he grabbed the chair he had been sitting on and pulled it over to the side of Jeremy’s bed. He sat, picked up Jeremy’s hand and laced their fingers together. He shut his eyes and leaned back, exhaling softly.

“I’m not going anywhere.”


	11. The Long Awaited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about this fic, I promise. It's weird coming back to this chapter after such a long break and re-reading what I had written. It's funny how things work out, I suppose. I'm thinking in the long term here, and logically I can see a few more chapters after this, but I'm not definite on anything, least of all an ending. 
> 
> If you're still here, still reading this story: Thank you endlessly. Your words and likes and just about everything mean the world to me. You're all amazing.
> 
> And finally, sexual content (fucking finally, right?) in this chapter, so be warned. Rating is going up as well.

Nearly a week had come and gone, bringing with them the slow recovery of bones healing and cuts scabbing until the man in the bed felt slightly more human than he did days ago. The patterns on the hospital curtains began to make his eyes cross when he stared at them for too long, and the TV mounted to the wall sounded tinny, and he figured it was time to go home. His thoughts hesitated, rewound and hung on one word.

_Home._

He was _almost_ tempted to mentally correct himself, to force his mind to picture the small, empty London flat that his hollow eyes had gotten used to seeing as he laid on the couch. But it felt wrong, not only because that place never really did feel like home to him, but because he knew things had finally clicked over between him and James. Because they no longer fought when they spent more than five minutes in the same room, or because he was afraid to open his mouth around him, he and James had fell into some sort of syncopated rhythm that felt right. James’ house, hidden away in dense trees, shadowed by leafy branches and secluded from the world was home now.

James spent most of his time at the hospital with Jeremy, sitting in the hard plastic chair beside his bed, iPad in hand, listening to the slow beeping of the machines whirring behind him. Jeremy spent most of his time watching James. And only when Jeremy reminded James that he hadn’t been home in days did he pull himself out of that god awful chair and fly back, promising he’d be back the next day.

He was of course, greeting Jeremy with his crooked smile and a brief hug, long enough for Jeremy to breathe in the smell of shampoo and tobacco that lingered in James’ hair. Jeremy’s eyes followed him, watching as he sat in his usual spot, leaning his neck back until it cracked. James looked at Jeremy, matching his hazy gaze with electric blue eyes that made it hard for Jeremy to pull oxygen into his lungs.

And when it came time for Jeremy to leave the hospital, James was beside him, packing his things and holding a steady hand out as Jeremy swung his legs off the bed, making sure his wobbly legs held him upright. Refusing a wheelchair, the two walked out of the hospital, and into a cab that would take them to the airfield, and finally back to peace.

The flight was quiet, with quick reassurances of “I’m fine, James” coming from Jeremy, and frequent glances from James that Jeremy noticed, no matter how hard James was trying to be covert about it.

By the time they’d landed, unpacked and began cooking, a dusky orange sky hung outside, it’s glow illuminating the horizon between the trees, making the water on the lake ripple with what appeared to be fire. Jeremy stood on the porch, cigarette dangling from between two fingers, his other arm immobilized in a cast and sling. He realized now, that he would eventually have to tell James how he felt, really tell him, and not just by kissing him again. A pang of anxiety rushed through his gut, feeling it spread until it hit his brain, making his vision flicker slightly. Shaking his head, he took another drag.

Being out here cleared his head. It kept him confined to a space that he had to adapt to being in, not a whole city laid out for him to roam freely in, his tires eating up the worn concrete as he drove for miles, stars above him pointing him towards his next conquest. He could focus on them, on the progression of whatever it was they had simmering.

But when he really thought about it, really let the idea of never returning float low in his mind, he didn’t miss London, or Top Gear, or his lonely little flat and he wasn’t the least bit surprised. He knew that his life back home was chaotic, and out here it wasn’t. Maybe it was time for him to let Top Gear go, and start something new.

He sighed.

“What are you sighing about?” James’ voice came from behind him, and he quickly turned. James stepped out of the doorway and went to stand next to Jeremy, pulling out a cigarette of his own.

Jeremy hesitated before speaking, as if choosing his words carefully. “I don’t miss England, and that doesn’t worry me.” He explained, “which does.”

James laughed. “Now you know why I left. It’s quiet out here, and I don’t have to deal with the bullshit I’m expected to back there.”

“That’s exactly it though. Back there, I have nothing.” Jeremy said quietly, still looking at the now nearly set sun. James ashed his cigarette, the orange sparks falling into the snow below him, feeling Jeremy’s turn to him. “But here…” he punctuated his pause with a deep inhale, not bothering to finish his sentence. He opened his mouth, ready to tell James everything when James spoke.

"Trust me Jezza, I understand completely."

Taking one last draw off his smoke before flicking it away and turning to Jeremy, James peered at him through tired eyed. “C’mon, the food’s getting cold.”

Jeremy nodded and followed James inside, his arms aching to turn him around and kiss him senseless, to thread his fingers through silver waves, to feel the way his throat moved as he moaned. Jeremy shook the thoughts from his head, and forced himself to focus on dinner. Not wise to dwell on fantasy, he convinced himself. Not when he still needed to tell James what he felt.

“What did you make?” He asked as he sat at the table while James went to grab the pot off the burner, making sure to turn it off.

“I found a recipe for butter chicken, and who better to test it on than you?” James grinned as he dished it onto Jeremy’s plate, quickly placing some on his own, turning to grab the plate of naan bread he’d left on the counter, along with a bottle of wine.

Jeremy eyed the bottle as James set it down.

The dinner was surprisingly good, not near the caliber of what they used to order back home, carryout menus for varying Indian restaurants scattered across James’ counter top, the bottle of wine meant for dinner half finished by the time the actual meal had arrived, but still decent. He was full, just drunk enough to be comfortable and so he yawned widely, James mirroring him seconds later.

Jeremy laughed, standing to take the dirty plates to the sink.

“Shall we open another bottle then?” He questioned, voice raised over the loud water from the tap as he scrubbed the remnants off the plate and into the drain.

“I think we shall. Feel like a movie?” James asked, stretching his arms behind his neck, groaning slightly.

“As long as it’s something decent and not that horrible shit you make me watch, sure.”

James grinned and went to find something Jeremy wouldn’t complain about for two hours.

Jeremy dried his hands on the dishtowel hanging from the cabinet door and went to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses, shutting off the lights in the kitchen before he made his way over to James. He sat closer than he normally would, knowing James’ issues with personal space. He was close enough that their thighs touched, and their shoulders brushed with every movement either one made. James said nothing, so he figured it was safe to remain where he was.

Opening the bottle, Jeremy poured them each a glass and leaned back. The lights in the house were off, the only light coming from the television, which cast a warm blue glow over the room. The TV screen reflected in the wine glass James held between loose fingers, Jeremy watching as he brought it up to his lips. James’ eyelids eventually grew heavy, half hidden eyes watching the television with a sleepy sort of unawareness. Jeremy cataloged the lines in his face, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how he tipped his head back to swallow the wine. He watched as the wine progressively made James’ eyes droop lower, how it made his breathing grow slow and deep.

James must have felt eyes watching him, as he turned to regard Jeremy who continued to stare unashamedly. James said nothing as he grasped Jeremy’s hand where it lay on the couch and squeezed tenderly, only to release it so it laid flat on his thigh, palm facing upwards. He began to trace lines abstractedly, the tip of his finger moving from palm to fingertip and all the way back down again, drifting to the center ever so often, and always making circles when it did. By this point, Jeremy had tuned out the movie playing entirely, instead focusing on the way James’ finger trailed against his skin, making his palm itch. He remained still, captivated at how easily James could speak volumes without opening his mouth once. He silently envied him.

James’ fingers moved from his palm to his wrist, tracing small circles up his forearm and back down, always stopping at his pressure point, as if checking to see if Jeremy’s heart was still beating. The feeling made him shiver, and James looked up, quickly pulling his finger away. Jeremy shook his head and grabbed for James’ hand, again, this time linking their fingers together.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but shut it when he realized he didn’t know what to say. For once in his life he was left speechless, trying desperately to find words. The wine was making it hard to think, hard to form sentences that would sound as he wanted them to when they left his mouth. Looking at James again, fingers still linked, he sighed. It was now or never.

"James, look. You know I'm absolute rubbish with this kind of thing, romance and feelings and all, but I owe it to you to be honest. I've loved you for years. I've grown so used to having you around that when you left, I sort of imploded. I had no idea what to do with myself, when the two things I cared about most were taken away from me. I should have told you when he got back from Argentina, but I was afraid." Jeremy blurted out, blue eyes carefully watching James' reaction to his words.

"I tried my hardest to keep you safe, I honestly thought we were going to die then." he continued, "I did nothing but hide, and continued to do so even when I shouldn't have. That's why I came here, James. Because I can't bare being without you."

James said nothing, letting Jeremy's words sink in. Instead of waiting for James to reply, Jeremy decided that for once, more words were not needed. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to James’, a gentle collision of skin, unhurried and languid. James’ lips were surprisingly soft, and so he let them linger there for a moment before pulling away and letting their foreheads touch, close enough that he felt James’ breath on his face.

It was James who kissed him again, tilting his face forward until they met with eyes shut, lips meeting again. James’ tongue swept across Jeremy’s lower lip as he deepened the kiss. Jeremy released his hand from where they lay and brought it to the back of James’ neck, threading his fingers through his hair. Jeremy let his tongue gently prod at James’ lips, until he opened them wide enough to let Jeremy slip it in. He tightened his grip on James’ hair as James tongue finally met his, the tips sliding together lazily.

Unlike the first time they’d kissed, this one was slow and tender, not a battle for control. They explored each others mouths with meek motions, as if asking for permission to continue, growing comfortable with the way the other moved.

James’ mouth was warm, and he tasted of spices and wine, the hints of their earlier cigarettes lingering as well, making the blood in Jeremy’s veins boil with arousal. James was thorough in just about everything he did and kissing was certainly one of those things. A simple pull of Jeremy’s lip between his teeth, the sharp press of teeth to sensitive skin, had him moaning quietly into James’ mouth.

When the two broke apart, breathing heavily, James’ eyes were nearly black, because of the lack of light or arousal, Jeremy didn’t know. A quick glance at James’ lap told Jeremy that it was most certainly arousal, his erection making the denim he wore strain around the zipper.

James looked past Jeremy to the hallway behind him, and Jeremy nodded. He stood, holding his hand out to James, who took it.

“Are you sure James?” Jeremy asked throatily, desire coating his voice making it deeper than it already was. He didn’t want James to feel like this was something he had to do.

James looked at him through heavy eyes and nodded. “Of course I am Jez. I’ve wanted this since the day I met you, and you know that.”

Jeremy regarded him carefully before nodding twice.

“You know that what you said back home was true,” James continued, “I did want to fuck you. I mean, before all of this bullshit exploded, that is. I guess I wasn't that transparent either, after all.”

Jeremy, still holding James’ hand squeezed it tightly and said nothing as he led him to the bedroom. He didn’t want to talk about the past, not when he knew he could have so much more ahead of him.

When they entered, he released James’ hand and pushed him towards the bed, so he sat. Jeremy began to unbutton his shirt, watching as James’ hands mirrored his actions until they’d both shed their clothing in piles on the floor, only their boxers remaining.

Jeremy pushed James’ shoulder so he lay against the bed, and he crawled in beside him, lying on his side, careful not to hurt his broken arm. He trailed a finger down James’ neck, shoulders, torso, down his thigh until his arm couldn’t reach any further. James shivered and leaned forward lifting his arm to wrap around Jeremy, but Jeremy put his palm to James’ shoulder and pushed him back down. Tentatively, James leaned back, eyes glued to Jeremy. He watched as Jeremy memorized his body, every swell of muscle, every freckle, burned into his memory. When Jeremy finally looked up, meeting James’ eyes, he licked his lips and Jeremy couldn’t stop himself from leaning in to kiss James’ tongue back into his mouth, hands gripping the sides of his torso gently.

When they parted, Jeremy slid his hand down to the line of elastic on James’ boxers, fingers skimming under it ever so gently, making James shiver, whispering “Jeremy, oh god” under his breath. 

“Quiet,” Jeremy said, “and keep your eyes shut.”

This had James moaning quietly, his lack of vision rendering him unaware of what Jeremy might do, which only made him harder.

Jeremy sat up, moving so he knelt between James’ spread thighs, his hands gripping them tightly, feeling them flex under his fingertips in anticipation. He’d waited for so long to make things right, never once letting himself think that what he was about to do was a possibility, fearing that James would refuse to even speak to him, let alone ever willingly get in bed with him. Now that he had it, he promised himself that he would make it worth it, promised himself he would not stop until James was shaking.

He ran his hand up James’ thighs, steadily going higher until his palm reached the swell of James’ cock as it strained against his underwear. His eyes were still shut as Jeremy traced the outline of it, before he gripped it in his hand and squeezed. James gasped at this, and Jeremy grinned, lowering his mouth to the tip, kissing it through the damp fabric that separated sensitive skin. Again he rubbed his palm against it, pressing down with more force each time. It was unbelievable, feeling the way James grew harder beneath his hand, that he could feel the rush of blood flow through James' veins at a simple touch.

“Up,” he commanded, his voice rough with arousal. James obeyed, lifting his hips off the bed so Jeremy could slide his boxers down his legs and onto the floor. James lay still, save for his cock that twitched occasionally when Jeremy unintentionally brushed against it.

He began kissing a trail around James’ hips, starting from one side and making his way to the other, going lower with every pass of his lips. When he’d arrived at cock level, he took great care not to touch it, moving his mouth around it and onto James’ thighs.

James shifted his hips, trying to get Jeremy’s mouth closer to where he wanted it, but Jeremy wouldn’t let him. He grabbed at James’ hips, holding them down so he wouldn’t be able to move, pressing his fingertips into the warm skin.

“Don’t move, alright? If you do, I’ll stop.” Jeremy warned, making James grimace above him. He knew James wouldn’t doubt that he would actually stop, and so he obeyed, fighting to keep his body still as Jeremy gently licked the tip of his cock, tasting the precum that beaded there.

James moaned, whispering Jeremy’s name under his breath, punctuated by quiet, ”Fuck…” as Jeremy’s tongue drew circles on sensitive skin. He slid his hand into Jeremy’s hair, tugging gently.

James still had his eyes clenched shut, and Jeremy watched as his face changed each time his tongue swiped along the head, trying to work out what he liked best. The small sounds of arousal coming from James’ mouth had Jeremy harder than he’d ever been, his own neglected erection poking through the slit of his boxers. He could wait; he wanted to lavish James instead. A quick pull of James’ cock head into his mouth had James babbling, and for a brief moment he wanted to ignore all of this and take him right then and there, bent over on his knees, face pressed into the mattress.

James’ eyes rolled into the back of his skull, his head pressed firmly against his pillow when Jeremy sucked James’ entire length into his hot mouth. James let out a slew of curses and Jeremy lifted his mouth off him, stopping entirely. James threaded a hand through his sweat-drenched hair.

“Fuck, _fuck Jez,_ I’m sorry. I’ll shut up, please, _please keep going.”_

“Fine, but if you speak again, I’ll stop for good. Understood?”

James nodded his head against the pillow firmly, eyes shut in frustration. Taking pity on him, Jeremy continued, wrapping his lips as best he could around James and sucking hard enough to make his cheeks hollow.

Jeremy could feel how desperate James was for contact, seeing as he practically bucked his hips off the bed in time with each suck from Jeremy’s mouth. He teasingly licked up James’ length and James practically wailed, fingers gripping the sheets so tightly he feared they’d rip. If Jeremy stopped for more than a moment, he was sure that James would beg him to continue, dignity be damned.

Ignoring his own, almost painful desire, he focused instead on taking as much of James’ quite thick length into his mouth as best he could, tightening his lips around the base. He felt the tip of James’ cock brush the back of his throat, and so he swallowed experimentally. The press of muscle around James made him shout, bucking his hips in surprise. Jeremy managed not to choke, pulling his mouth off James and breathing in a lungful of air.

Taking a moment, James sucked in heavy breaths, his chest heaving against the mattress. Jeremy watched as James collected himself as best he could, opening his eyes to meet Jeremy’s. His mouth opened, as he tried to get the words out, but failed, still panting.

When he’d calmed down enough, his cock still bobbing in the air, he rasped out “ _Condom_ —“, pointing to the bedside table.

Jeremy stared at him for a long moment, eyes locked as James blinked slowly, watching as the gears collided and began to spin in Jeremy’s head. James didn’t have to tell him they’d be in the table beside the bed, mentally deciding that it was some sort of unspoken code that regardless of the situation, condoms would always be there. He watched, craning his neck from where it lay against the pillow as Jeremy rooted through the drawer, pulling a strip of condoms and a small bottle of lube out, smiling smugly.

“Magnums, James?” He asked, grinning like the cat that had eaten the canary, dangling the condoms over James’ head.

James simply pursed his lips and made a move to grab at the strip, before Jeremy yanked them away.

“They’re the only ones that feel comfortable and —“ He stopped, “Hang on. I shouldn’t have to justify anything. Fuck, Jezza just get on with it _please.”_

James shut his eyes in impatience, and Jeremy laughed quietly above him, the condom between his teeth as he ripped the foil in two.

Once the condom was on, Jeremy clicked open the bottle of lubricant and drizzled it over his fingers, rubbing them against his thumb to get them slippery. With his dry hand he spread James legs, bending them at the knee and looked at James.

“Are you sure? Really sure?”

James nodded."How are you going to manage, with your arm and all?"

"It's not nearly as sore anymore, I'll be careful." Jeremy murmured, closing the lid of the lube, leaving it on the table.

He gently placed his finger against James’ hole, rubbing circles around it until he felt the muscle tense. He couldn’t resist pushing slightly, slowly sliding his finger in, nearly deep enough that the heel of his palm rested against James’ thigh. A slow, whining keen escaped James’ mouth, and god if he continued to make those sounds, all of Jeremy’s self control would evaporate. He continued like this until three of his fingers were seated deeply inside James, tickling his prostate tantalizingly.

“Jeremy, stop —”

Jeremy’s hand froze, and he looked up expecting to see panic to lace James’ expression. Jeremy met James' eyes and instantly understood. He slid his fingers out despite a cry from James, and reached for the lube again. He poured it into his palm and slicked his cock up, dripping more onto his finger to make sure James was prepared enough, as hurting him the last thing he wanted.

Lining himself up with James, he pushed, gentle enough that only the tip breached the ring of muscle, watching in awe as it was swallowed up into indescribable heat. He was used to smooth skin and bouncing breasts, but he’d be a liar if he said the rasp of James’ hairy thighs and stubbly face didn’t drive him insane.

He leaned forward, resting on his forearms beside James’ head as he slid in more, now almost fully inside. James slammed his eyes shut as Jeremy slid the rest of the way in and settled, allowing him to adjust to the feeling of being filled.

“How is it?” Jeremy breathed, voice little more than a whisper.

“Hurts. Not unbearable though. It’s so odd, it feels like I’m being split in half, but it — _god, I can imagine how fucking good it’s going to feel._ ” James uttered, letting his eyes close.

Jeremy lifted a hand and ran it along James’ rough face, stopping to cup his jaw.

“Open your eyes. I want to see, please James?” Jeremy pleaded, his cheeks reddening. “I, I’ve waited a long time to do this. I want to see everything.”

James complied, and opened his eyes.

“Can I, can I move?” Jeremy asked, and James nodded, lifting his hands to hold onto Jeremy’s hips, pulling him forward. Jeremy obeyed, and pulled out slowly. Thrusting more forcefully, he worked up a rhythm that James met with thrusts of his hips, pulling him in deeper.

Jeremy watched as James’ cock bobbed with each push of his hips, slamming them into James.

“God, Jeremy…please…” James gasped out, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“What do you want, James. Tell me” Jeremy uttered huskily against the skin of James’ neck, biting down to punctuate his question. James moaned at the sharp teeth nipping at him, digging his nails into Jeremy’s hips hard enough to leave bloody crescent shapes in the soft flesh.

“Please, _harder, please.”_

Jeremy pulled out entirely, and James cried in frustration. He wanted more, not less god damn it. In one thrust, Jeremy filled James, the tip of his cock slamming into James’ prostate hard enough to make his hips buck off the bed. He tightened impossibly around Jeremy’s cock, the sudden shock making Jeremy gasp. He was unbelievably close, but he wanted James to finish first, to come so hard his eyes rolled into his skull.

Every thrust of his hips had James clenching tighter, the muscles in his legs stiffening. Jeremy knew he had to be close, and he lifted a hand to grab at James’ leaking erection. Stroking his thumb over the head, James grew louder, shouting with every jab of Jeremy’s hips.

Three pumps of his hand had James crying out, his mouth wide open.

James whined, trying to get words out.

“Jezza, fuck, oh god I’m going to come. Please Jeremy, I’m so close, I —“ James gasped and went silent.

The grasp James had on Jeremy tightened as he slammed his eyes shut, orgasm wracking it’s way through his body making his legs shake with the force of it. His come painted Jeremy’s chest as it shot out in hot spurts. Jeremy came seconds later, emptying himself in James; a moan ripping it’s way out of his throat. Everything went white behind his eyes, his ears ringing loudly as he gasped above James, trying to catch his breath.

They lay like this for a moment, both men panting loudly. James’ hair was soaking, clinging in tendrils to his cheeks and forehead, his arms spread wide along the mattress. Jeremy was in the same state as he slid slowly out of James, careful not to hurt him. Sliding off the condom, he moved off the bed and shakily made it to the bathroom, his legs feeling like jelly. Returning with a damp cloth, he wiped them both clean, the warm water beading up on James’ pale skin as he scrubbed. James hummed happily under his breath.

When Jeremy was done, he returned to the bed and lifted the covers, beckoning James under to curl up beside him. He laid his head on Jeremy’s shoulder and Jeremy lifted a palm to stroke his hair, both men still silent.

“Fuck, Jez. That was…certainly something.” James murmured, voice rough from moaning.

“It was good, then?” Jeremy questioned, eyes closed. He felt James nod against his shoulder. He chuckled, running his fingers through damp waves. Both men were beyond tired, and the clutches of sleep began to pull at them, their thoughts drifting far away.

The window adjacent to the large bed allowed for moonlight to tear it’s way through the holes in the blinds, illuminating the room in a pale glow. The slow, steady intake of sleepy breaths punctuated the silence that the night brought with it. The rasp of blankets scratching alongside the motion of restless limbs, the quiet susurrus of sheets sliding and skin moving against the mattress was all that was heard for quite some time, until Jeremy was almost sure James was asleep.

James hummed softly, clinging to the threads of consciousness.

“What?” Jeremy half-whispered.

“Just thinking.” He answered softly.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but about what?”

James was quiet for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “Remember earlier, when you said you didn’t miss London?” He asked.

Jeremy hummed in acknowledgement, his fingers returning to move lazily against James’ scalp.

“I told you I didn’t either and I meant it. I could stay here forever and be fine with that. I was thinking and maybe you could stay here, if you wanted to that is.”

Jeremy turned so he could wrap his long arms around James, pulling him in closer so he was tucked under Jeremy’s chin. He kissed the top of James’ head, a hand moving to tilt James’ face up so he could kiss that too. Leaning his forehead against James’ for the second time that evening, he sighed, grinning. Sleepy blue eyes met and Jeremy nodded against James, a deep laugh escaping his lips.

“I thought you’d never ask.”


	12. The Stirred Pot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me start this off by saying that it has been a very hard few weeks for everyone in the Top Gear fandom. If you are still here, still hopeful and still reading this, thank you from the bottom of my heart. The desire to write anything kind of escaped me for a while there, and it was a bit like rubbing an open wound writing this then. Time has passed, and while it still hurts, I can't stay away from this fic for too long.
> 
> I'd say about two chapters left after this, maybe three. We'll see.

It had been weeks since Richard had heard anything from either Jeremy or James, which meant one of two things; either James had killed him somewhere out in the wilderness, hid the body and went back to being alone, or that Jeremy had made it and they’d made up, but Richard was leaning more towards the first option. The last text he’d gotten from Jeremy was one telling him not to miss him too much, and a bunch of garbled punctuation. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he tapped on the screen to open his messages, tapping on Jeremy’s name. Checking the date of the text told Richard that it had been nearly a month since he’d heard from him, and it had been even longer with James, their last conversation on the gravel of Jeremy’s driveway. Richard sighed; leaning back in the leather chair he sat in, the moody ceiling lights casting dark shadows over his face, dancing and shifting as his body moved with intakes of breath. His eyes shut and he leaned his head, resting it on steepled fingertips. The bar he sat in was busy, enough people there on a Friday night that he didn’t know, milling about to create a sort of auditory fog, their conversations blurring into white noise as he tuned it all out.

A sharp pat on his shoulder had his eyes springing open and him sitting up sharply in his seat. Andy laughed, and sat down in the chair beside him, holding two drinks, outstretching one towards him, which he took with a grimace.

“You twat, you scared the shit out of me.” Richard groaned, scowling at Andy as he sipped from his glass.

“Shouldn’t be sleeping in a bar then, something bad’s bound to happen.” Andy replied, making Richard roll his eyes.

“If I didn’t spend so much of my bloody time worrying about not only my career, my family, my obligations and two absolute bellends somewhere in Canada, I wouldn’t be so unbearably tired, so forgive me.” Richard spat back.

Andy sighed, holding his free hand up to Richard. “I know, I know, I’m the last person you need to tell about delegating bullshit, believe me. It’s been what, a month and a half? I’m still fucking dealing with the fallout from Jezza leaving.”

“Two months.” Richard corrected. “Have you heard anything from either of them? Texts or anything?” Andy shook his head.

“Not a word from either, Jeremy didn’t even tell me he was going to Canada you know, not a peep.”

“Can you really blame him though?” Richard asked, shrugging. “Don’t take this the wrong way mate, but you were the one who fired him.” Andy opened his mouth, retort already hanging off his tongue but Richard cut him off. “I know it wasn’t _your_ idea in the first place, you know how Jezza gets. If it makes it any better, he only told me he was going after James ten minutes before he boarded the bloody plane.”

Andy rolled his eyes, making Richard chuckled quietly. Taking another sip of his drink, the perspiring glass making the palm of his hand cold and clammy, he dragged it across his jean-clad thigh a few times. As if he’d suddenly remembered, he turned to Andy.

“Why did you want to meet here again?” He asked, watching Andy as his eyes glazed over, staring off into the space in front of him. Andy scratched his lip, moving slowly to look at Richard. He regarded him for a second, eyes narrowing ever so slightly before he sighed heavily. He looked tired, bags heavy under his eyes, his cheekbones beginning to show under skin pulled taut.

“There have been some…. _rumblings_ at the BBC, Richard. People are talking.”

 

* * *

 

A thick, fresh layer of snow had suddenly and brazenly squashed the promise of spring that had been subtly creeping up on the home. The heavy flakes drifted slowly downwards, the occasional one catching on a window frame or porch step, until a white coating appeared on nearly everything outside the house. The slow creeping dawn shone it’s way through the bedroom window, the overcast snowy sky making the light muted and soft. The daylight pooled in the sheets of the blanket, the folds and lines holding the light in almost the same way it did on the lined faces of the men still asleep, blankets thrown over their bodies, rising and falling with their breathing.

It was Jeremy who woke first, as unusual as that was. The habit of sleeping as much as possible was one Jeremy knew he’d never break, the promise of hours of silence, _mental silence,_ was something he couldn’t resist.

He cracked an eye open, blinking slowly, peeling the other one open too when he realized James was still asleep beside him. He was curled over on his side, folded palms pressed sloppily together under his chin as his body rose and fell. Almost inaudible sounds escaped his parted lips, little snores mixing in with his steady breathing. Jeremy turned his head gently, as to not wake him up, watching the man sleep. He looked so unbearably peaceful when he slept, he looked quiet and small and untroubled.

Jeremy felt as if he didn’t recognize the man beside him. They’d slept along side each other in some fairly cramped places, and they’d shared a tent in the arctic, but here in the quiescent house, James seemed different. James, _this James,_ was unlike anything he knew him to be. He’d become open and willing to talk, instead of stuffing his feelings in the far reaches of his mind. James moved about as if he had a purpose, and a grand one at that. And he smiled far more often, little ones when Jeremy said something, or when he’d compliment James’ cooking. It was unbelievable how James had changed so much in such a short time, smiling and laughing and not dragging his body from place to place, being happy when he felt he had to, like he used to do. Jeremy decided that he quite liked the new James, quite a lot.

Feeling the pull of a morning cigarette, Jeremy sat up, again checking over his shoulder to make sure he’d not disturbed James. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood slowly. He headed to the bathroom first, yawning widely as he went. When he was finished, he went to turn off the light, but stopped when he saw his reflection in the mirror.

He stared at himself, so accustomed to hating the reflection that he saw. He followed the lines that were scattered across his face, tracing them over his forehead and around his eyes, curving his gaze along the bags that hung beneath them. The usual desire to flee never struck him, and so he continued to look. Surprising himself, he realized very suddenly that he didn’t mind what he saw reflected back at him for once in his life. Sure, he was getting older and wrinkly and his hair wasn’t coming in any thicker, but he stared with a furrowed brow and began to smile.

He let out a small laugh, watching as a grin spread it’s way across his face and took one last look before he headed out of the bathroom.

He made his way to the kitchen, grabbing his pack from the counter and slipping on a pair of slippers, heading towards the door.

He was met with the sight of snow falling out of a grey sky, the ground blanketed in white before his eyes. He took it all in, sleep blurred eyes scanning the land in front of him. He smiled as he lit his cigarette, inhaling the smoke into his lungs. The first cigarette of the day always went straight to his head, making him dizzy.

Tomorrow would mean he’d been at James’ for two months. It felt like yesterday that he’d read Richard’s text, remembering the way his stomach pulled into knots when it finally sank in. Argentina felt like it’d happened years ago, feeling more like a bad dream than an actual memory, even now.

Jeremy turned, dusting flakes of snow off the seat of an old oak chair James had on his porch, and sat with a groan. Crossing his legs, he leaned back and shut his eyes, letting his sleepy mind wander. Being here, away from everything with James had forced him to think very resolutely about….things.

He’d been without the crazy work schedule he’d adhered to for more than a decade, been without the chaos of London, been without media and scandal and stress. And besides all that, he’d been with James, who quite clearly began to rub off on him. Jeremy found himself thinking before he spoke, consciously weighing his words on his tongue before letting them escape his lips. He found himself smiling more often, at little things that didn’t matter but seemed like everything now. He woke up happy, not hung over and alone.

It was very easy to look back on the person he was, the rut he’d fallen in and continue to trudge through as if it was someone else. As if his actions and thoughts and feelings towards life, the universe and everything were that from the mind of another person. A wave of regret washed over him, making him shiver slightly. He wasn’t a bad person, at least he didn’t think so, he just…acted like a prick on occasion. He didn’t mean to start any fires, or burn any bridges or make anyone upset.

He sighed loudly, taking one final pull from his smoke before flinging it into the snowy drifts. Standing, he looked across the expanse of snow-covered grass towards the edge of the lake. He made a vow right then and there to himself, that he’d be a better man. A firm nod finalized that and he turned to the front door.

He stepped into the house and toed off his shoes, leaving them on the mat so they didn’t leave puddles on his floor and returned to the bedroom. He lifted the blanket and slid back in, the warmth from James’ sleeping form melting the chill from his bones that the outside had caused.

When he settled down, he felt arms wrap around him and pull him backwards, drawing him closer. James nuzzled against his neck, his warm breath tickling his skin.

“Mmmm, why’re you so cold Jez?” James murmured, voice rough.

“Cigarette.” Jeremy replied, closing his eyes against James.

“Y’should’ve woken me.”

“I wouldn’t have dared.”

Opening his eyes, Jeremy’s eyes met James’, which were now open, the usual bright blue was hazy and darkened with sleep. Jeremy smiled, leaning forward to place a barely there kiss on James’ cheek, pulling back far enough to place another on the tip of his nose, and one more on his lips.

“This,” Jeremy thought to himself as James continued to pepper his face with kisses, “is why I should be better. This is why I should wake up happy, and love the world like I should. Because I have you.”

He put a hand to James’ cheek, holding him still. James blinked sleepily at him, staring until Jeremy leaned forward and kissed him back properly. Jeremy swiped his tongue along James’ lower lip until he opened his mouth, letting Jeremy slip his tongue in.

He could have stayed like that forever, until the walls of the house fell down and the undergrowth took over, creeping like veins across all of the furniture. He wouldn’t mind, letting the snow and rain in, letting it pour over their heads as they lay in that bed, sleepily breathing in the air around them. The world could come crashing down to an abrupt and messy end and Jeremy’s only complaint was that he’d have nobody to hear him when he stood on the rooftop and screamed about how James made him feel.

Placing his warm palms on James cheeks, he pulled him away. James looked at him with questioning eyes, but Jeremy simply shook his head. Holding him there, he stared at him, taking the time to trace the lines in James’ face like he did his own earlier. He mapped them, every line, every freckle, every mark. He laid James out like a map in his head, plotting each point on his face like a stop on the tube, but James ended up being more detailed. He memorized the way his pupils dilated, the way his eyes crinkled when he squinted them into a smile, the little hitch his breath did when he kissed him slowly.

If this was what being a better man was all about, patience and quiet, Jeremy had no doubts that he’d be alright.

“Why don’t you take a picture Clarkson? It’ll last longer, that’s for sure.” James murmured softly, pulling Jeremy out of his trance. Jeremy grinned, shaking his head in answer.

“No thank you. But I don’t doubt that it’d last longer. You’re about three years from growing expired and sour and then I’ll have to bin you.”

James shoved him gently, forcing him to fall back on the bed laughing. He yawned loudly, his back cracking gruesomely. James grimaced at him, which only made him laugh harder.

“God I’m starving. Go make me some breakfast.” James rolled his eyes in response, making no move to get up.

“I thought I was expired? You said it yourself, so that must mean I’m far too ancient to stand in a kitchen and cook anything for your lazy arse.”

Jeremy stuck his lower lip out and pouted. “Pleeeaasee James, I’m so hungry. I’ll love you forever.”

“Oh god, now I’m really not going anywhere.” He said as he shut his eyes and lifted his arms behind his head, so it rested in his crossed palms.

All the breath was forced out of James’ body, a soft “Ooof” escaping his lips as Jeremy landed on top of him, close enough that their noses touched.

“Please.”

Silence.

“ _Fine_.”

 

* * *

 

The light of the laptop screen illuminated the walls of the room, painting everything in a white glow. The only sound came from the blinds hitting the window frame as the windy rain outside blew through the open window, the smell of watery earth permeating the room.

Richard sat hunched at his desk, holding his head in his palm, staring at the screen. He watched as his inbox’s message count grew, each passing minute making the number in the corner go up, as messages flew in. He hadn’t replied to any, opening only a few that were sent directly to him from Andy, but none of the ones that had him CC’ed, the names of men he’d met in passing as the recipients. Glancing at the top of the screen, he saw that it was nearly 4am.

Running a hand through his already tousled hair, he scratched at his head in frustration. This couldn’t be happening, and not now of all times. He sighed, and pushed himself away from the desk, needing a break from it all. The legs of the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he moved to stand. Remembering what time it was, he walked on tiptoes to the kitchen, not turning on any of the lights, and flicked the switch on the kettle. If he was going to be up all night, caught in the middle of this war, he might as well have a cup of tea. He laughed to himself, imagining envelope shaped warheads careening over his head, as he lay prone in a trench that looked more like two turned over couches than a muddy ditch.

The kettle whistled away, steam pouring out of the top as he rummaged through the pantry, sifting through boxes for the package of biscuits he liked best. The kettle clicked behind him, just as he grasped the box and pulled it out.

Three lumps of sugar and a precisely measured amount of milk later, he pulled his chair out again and sat, placing the mug and plate beside his laptop.

In the time it had taken him to make his tea, thirteen new unread messages sat in his inbox, two of which were from Andy, the little red exclamation mark hung beside them menacingly. He picked up a biscuit, holding it between his teeth as he clicked the first one.

“ _Richard,_

_They’ve said something about a panel now, and they’ve called in the financial exec to discuss the numbers. Danny has spoken to Anne Bulford about it, and they’re bringing it to Tony now._

_I’ll copy you on the original message_.”

He clicked on the second message.

“ _Tony’s agreed, but it didn’t sound much like an agreement to me_ ” was all the email said.

Reaching for another biscuit, he dunked this one in his tea, letting the hot liquid absorb into the crevices of the cookie. Just as he was about to stuff the soggy thing into his mouth, a third email popped up, only this time instead of Andy, it was from Tony Hall.

Richard clicked it, forgetting about the biscuit in his fingers, feeling the mushy end break off and sink to the bottom of his cup. He looked at it for a second before dropping the dry half in as well.

“ _Richard,_

_I’m sure you are aware of the news going around, and I’m equally as sure that Mr. Wilman has copied you on most of the emails, so I’ll cut the bypassing and speak directly to you about this._

_As a man who cares about his career, much like you do yours, I am continually focused on making the BBC better, and to do that I am very active in it’s operations. And occasionally in the middle of all of that, I am forced to make some very important decisions, decisions that not only affect the careers and lives of many of the BBC’s employees, but my own. I am aware that being fired is not pleasant, and I admit that I try and do it as little as possible._

_Now, there has been some discussion regarding Top Gear and the events that took place two and a half months ago. I know that Mr. Wilman has copied you on emails, and while he is being entirely truthful, I do not want you to assume that the decision that we are in the process of making is entirely rooted in financial gain. It would be ignorant of me to deny that Top Gear and it’s offshoots bring in a massive revenue for the BBC, but it would also be ignorant to ignore that aspect entirely. We are in the process of a major decision, and it is one that has been brought forth by many people, Mr. Wilman included, one that we think will positively impact the lives of everyone involved in Top Gear who have very suddenly found themselves unsure of their job and it’s continuation._

_We believe that we have made a mistake in the firing of Jeremy._

_The potential decision to reinstate Jeremy as an employee of the BBC is on the table, and will be ultimately decided tomorrow. It will take place at 9 am, and both you and Mr. Wilman are invited to attend._

_Best,_

_Tony Hall, Director-General”_

Richard stared at the message, reading it over twice, just to make sure what he was reading was in fact correct, and not a clever joke of Andy’s. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he sat back in his chair, his tea long forgotten and cold.


	13. The Meeting

He stared at the window to the empty, dark room, briefly scanning his figure up and down in the reflection before he reached nervous fingers up to grab the knot that rested at the base of his throat. Tugging at it gently, he adjusted it to where he thought it should be laying, and smoothed his slightly damp palms down the front of his suit.

Richard could feel his heart pounding in his chest, hearing the steady _thump, thump thump,_ in his ears like a drum echoing in an empty room. He rarely got nervous anymore, having been acclimated to crowds and audiences and most certainly the unexpected, having worked with Jeremy for so long. He’d learned to take his apprehensions and compartmentalize them, rationalize them in his mind until they broke down into simple things he’d be mad to be frightened of.

Oh God, he thought, I’ve been working with James May for far too long.

But still, this meeting, this was something he agreed that he had the right to be frightened of. A room full of people he’d met a handful of times were going to sit and decide on the lives of three people, like they were part of the council sitting down to debate the colour of flowers to plant in a roundabout. They didn’t know Jeremy like he did, and they never would. He was more than a name and a reputation that could be discussed with a cold detachment.

Richard sighed, looking down at the patterns on the linoleum tiles below his shiny oxfords, tracing the lines and dots like points on a map until his eyes went fuzzy and he let his thoughts wander. He’d spent so long wondering about his friends, hiding away in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, wondering if they’d made up. He could almost imagine what Jeremy would say, how he’d plead his case to James, hearing the tone of his voice in his head, echoing along with his heart beating. The apology always turned to screaming in his head, and he’d be back in Jeremy’s office, letting the tang of alcohol sting his nostrils as it permeated the room.

A quick glance at his watch told him that he had five minutes before he was expected. He blinked at his reflection once more before turning to walk down the hallway. Better to meet fate earlier than later, he supposed.

The door to the conference room was shut, and the blinds were drawn but the light was on inside, the faint glow filtering out from under the door. Taking a deep breath in, he reached for the doorknob, turning it and stepping into the room. Three men and a woman sat at the table, shuffling through papers in manila folders, all of them looking up at him when they heard him enter, the heavy door swinging open. Richard gave them a nervous smile, his face feeling tight across his skull, and a brief nod, before sitting down.

On the table in front of him was a folder with his name on it. Picking it up, he rifled through the papers inside. They were filled with charts of financials and revenue statistics, annual ratings and the like. Richard felt his eyes begin to glaze over again, most of what was typed on the sheets going over his head. He didn’t see how any of this really mattered, anyways. Jeremy wasn’t a number, and he was certainly more than the ones that followed a dollar sign.

The sound of the door opening had him looking up from the folder, watching as Andy and Tony stepped in, uttering quiet good mornings and quick nods of introduction. Andy walked over to sit next to Richard, eyeing his personal labeled folder as he sat. Tony sat at the end of the table, leaning back slightly and clasping his hands together over his chest.

Richard glanced over at Andy, who leaned forward to grab the papers in the labeled folder in front of him, an unreadable expression on his face as he flicked through the same ones that Richard did minutes ago. Richard rose his eyebrows, hoping he could silently communicate to Andy exactly how stupid he thought this whole thing was. Andy just shook his head and sighed quietly, going back to rifling through the sheets.

It was Tony who spoke first.

“Good morning everyone. I know it’s early but sometimes it’s better to just get things done and out of the way.”

Richard resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

“Well, let’s get down to it, shall we? The question that we’re here for today is as simple as it’s going to get. What shall we do with Jeremy Clarkson?” Tony asked to a silent room. Richard could feel the eyes of everyone save for Andy lift and turn in his direction. Andy sucked in a breath as if to speak, but was cut off by one of the men sitting across from them.

“I think,” he began, “that it would be entirely selfish and in no interest of the BBC to bring him back. In the what, 12 years that the show’s been on television, that man has done nothing but cause trouble for us, legally and otherwise.”

Richard had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snarling out “it’s been 13 years actually, you pompous twat”, but managed to keep his tongue in his mouth. Instead, he glared at Andy, who just shook his head quickly.

“I’d have to disagree,” the woman who Richard guessed was Anne Bulford mentioned in the emails from the previous night, spoke up. “Jeremy is a smart man. He’s not only branded a show, but his and two other people’s names,” she continued, turning to gesture towards Richard. “He knows exactly what to do and say to draw people in, and before all of this nonsense happened, he was doing just that. Nearly four million viewers in an evening alone, that’s nothing to shake a stick at Tony.”

Richard decided that he quite liked this woman.

“You’ve got a point. If you’ve read the sheets provided, you’ll see that the revenue numbers are astounding for a single show. A six episode series brings in more than the top three shows on BBC currently do combined.” The other man who Richard didn’t recognize added.

Tony said nothing, only nodding slightly. His eyes turned to Andy and Richard.

“Do you gentlemen have anything to add?” He asked, eyebrows raised as he flicked his glance between the two of them. Andy spoke before Richard could even comprehend what he wanted to say.

“I’m obviously going to be quite biased in my opinion here, but I think that the forced resignation of Jeremy was a bit,” he chose his word carefully, “severe.” Richard found himself nodding at that. “What he’s done was out of line, yes, I’ll be the first one to agree to that, but I don’t think it was something that was deserving of being fired. I don’t need to spew any more numbers and facts and dollar amounts to any of you, but Jeremy is more than all of that, as nice as all those things are. He’s a good, genuine guy who wanted to share something with the world.” Andy finished.

“And Richard, anything you’d like to add?” Tony asked.

“I would, actually.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while, and I’m sure you know by now that James and Jeremy are no longer in the country.” Tony nodded.

“The day after Jeremy was fired, James left to Canada, in what we all believe is a permanent measure. He told me that he was done with the show, and needed a break, so to speak.” Richard told them, purposely leaving out the fact that it was Jeremy who’d made him leave, but they didn’t need to know all of James’ dirty laundry. He continued, finding the words as he went along. He knew what he was going to do, the room full of people be damned.

The pounding in his ears grew louder until it was all he could hear now. It was now or never. He opened his mouth.

“I can comfortably speak for James and myself when I say that if Jeremy isn’t reinstated, both he and I will no longer continue the show as it stands right now.”

If all eyes weren’t on him before, they were now. Tony stared at him, face blank and unreadable, which made Richard panic slightly before continuing while he had his train of thought rolling.

“The show isn’t just Jeremy, as singular as it seems sometimes. It’s a group effort from the three of us, Andy, and the rest of the team. I wouldn’t ever think of doing the show with two other people who aren’t James and Jeremy. I’ll be the first person to admit that he’s a bit of a twat, but he’s also the hardest working person I’ve met in my life.”

The room was silent. Richard had effectively given not only his resignation, but James’, to a room full of executives who looked quite shell-shocked if Richard was being honest. It was then that Andy spoke up from behind him.

“I’m in the same boat as Richard, I’m afraid. If Jeremy goes, I go too.”

Richard swung around in his chair, looking at Andy with wide eyes and raised brows. Richard could understand him being upset, but never would he have guessed that he’d voluntarily quit his job, not as the producer.

“Well then,” Tony began, “I think I’ve heard enough for today. Given your thoughts, I’ll be speaking to a few more people, and you should have a decision by the end of the day.” He stood, and pushed the chair in in front of him. “Thank you all for coming today, and thank you for being so cooperative in this, I know it’s not only inconvenient but difficult as well.”

The rest of the people at the table stood and shook hands, Richard feeling his clammy palm touch Tony’s before they exited the room and went their separate ways.

Andy stood, waiting for the rest to leave before he turned to Richard.

“I guess that went as well as it was ever going to go…” He said, running a hand across his brow.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to quit too?”

“Because I’d decided it then and there, to be honest with you. If you and James leave, I’m jumping ship too. I’ve known Jez forever, I wouldn’t ever dare work with anyone who isn’t him” Andy explained. “It’s all or nothing, you know that as well as I do.”

Richard let the words sink in before he nodded, smiling.

“Let’s just see what the email says then, shall we? Then we’ll know for sure if we need to start sending resumes out.” Andy laughed, Richard laughing along with him.

 

* * *

 

“Is it tender?” James asked hesitantly as he pressed the pads of his fingers against Jeremy’s forearm, which rested flat along the kitchen table.

“A little. It feels more like someone’s jammed a screwdriver between the bones and is rattling it about, though.” He said, wincing as James prodded in different spots along his arm. It’d been long enough since the accident for Jeremy to have his cast removed, but he still had trouble moving his arm in certain ways as the bones healed, fusing back together. James was being his usual cautious self, making Jeremy sit after he nearly dropped a stack of dishes he’d meant to carry to the cupboard.

“I’m only curious because I’ve never broken anything in my life,” James continued, ignoring Jeremy’s face as it twisted in pain. “I always imagined it’d be like snapping a two by four or something, only inside your skin.”

“That’s exactly it, though. It was a loud popping sound, like a tree snapping or something. The pain doesn’t kick in right away, your shock reflexes stop it I guess.” Jeremy added, watching the way James trailed his fingertips along his arm, disturbing the fine hairs that rested there.

He’d much rather have James tracing other parts of his body gently, dragging those thick fingers up and down until he shivered, tracing the parts of his body that James knew made his knees weak. Jeremy took what he was given without complaint however, considering how James was about touching. James was getting better and better with physical contact the longer Jeremy stayed, almost to the point where Jeremy was convinced James did it without motive. He watched as James’ eyes trailed along after his fingers, focused and intent, like when he was working on a bike, scanning the machine for what to do next.

Jeremy shivered, deciding that he liked this newfound attention James had given him, liking the way he felt much smaller and more useful that he knew he really was. He found himself wishing very briefly, to be a motorbike, just so James could pick him up, tear him apart, polish all his rusted parts and then carefully assemble him again. But if James was giving him this, he figured he must be at least half as interesting as a bike, and mentally took that as a win.

As reluctant as he was to have James stop touching him, he needed a cigarette, and so when James pulled his fingers away, blushing at how long he’d been fiddling about with Jeremy, he smiled at him before he stood up. He brushed away the hair that hung around James’ shoulders and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck before pulling his pack out of his pocket and tapping James on the top of the head with it.

 

* * *

 

“ _Richard,_

_I am delighted to let you know that after careful consideration, we’ve decided to reinstate Jeremy as an employee of the BBC. Filming for Top Gear can commence at your discretion. I am aware of both James’ and Jeremy’s situation, so please pass this message on to both of them. I’ll be sending a formal email to Jeremy as well, please ensure that he sees it as soon as possible._

_I am sorry for all of this, but hopefully we can turn the page on this chapter and start a new one._

_All the best,_

_Tony Hall, Director-General.”_

Richard could feel his hand reaching for his cellphone before his brain registered that he’d even lifted it off the keyboard. Pulling up James’ number, he tapped the dial button and waited, but he never answered. Leaving a quick voicemail, he asked him to call him when he got it, and hung up.

 

* * *

 

The front door shut almost a second before James heard the tinny sound of a phone going off. A moment of brief confusion washed over him when he realized it wasn’t Jeremy’s phone, considering it hadn’t got a signal since he’d arrived. That left only one other option, and when he allowed himself to think about it, it sent a pang of anxiety through him.

James waited until the phone stopped ringing before standing to find it, having tucked it away in a drawer for emergencies, a high-end tactical phone that always had a signal, even out as far as he was. It was solid and drop proof, a plus considering how often James had dropped his iPhone, lifting it off the floor to find cracked glass and broken pixels. He leaned, peering through the window to see if Jeremy had heard, but he didn’t see him move at all, so he figured he was in the clear. Pulling the drawer open, he shifted through papers and uselessly hoarded bits of random things to grab the phone from where it sat on the bottom. James clicked it on, and saw the missed call from Richard. He wondered briefly why Richard would call now, of all times. They hadn’t spoke since they parted ways after the fight with Jeremy, hell, James hadn’t even told him that he was leaving.

There was a voicemail that James assumed was from Richard sitting in his inbox, so he clicked on the phone icon. Richard’s voice played in his ear.

“ _Hey James, it’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t called earlier or anything, I just wanted to give you some time. There’s some news I think you should know about though, considering it kind of impacts you as well, and uh, yeah. I just left the office and there was a big discussion about Jezza and Top Gear and all that, and mate, they’ve decided to bring it back, Jezza too. They gave him his job back._

 _Andy told me to call and let you know, so you can tell Jeremy and…figure stuff out I guess. Call me if you want mate, I’d like to hear from you_.”

The message ended there, and James immediately felt his stomach rise up into his throat. He held the phone to his ear, not paying attention to anything other than the sound of Richard’s voice echoing in his head like a broken record. James knew exactly what this meant, he could see the idyllic life they’d haphazardly created crumble and fall around him. He could feel his anxiety begin to creep up again, making his blood go cold and slow.

He didn’t hear Jeremy come in, or the door shutting, only turning around when Jeremy put both his hands on his shoulders and spun him, looking at him with concern. James felt his face pale.

“James, why are you holding the phone? Wait, where did that even come from?” Jeremy asked, eyebrow raised.

James blinked at him, saying nothing.

“Hang on, does that get a signal? My stupid bloody phone hasn’t worked in weeks, and that hunk of plastic does? Bollocks.” Jeremy continued. It was only when he got a good look at the expression on James’ face did he stop complaining. “Are you okay? What happened?” He asked, still holding on to James’ shoulders.

“Jezza, Richard called.” James managed, eyes staring unfocusedly at the floor.

“And?”

James lifted his gaze to meet Jeremy’s eyes. “And?” Jeremy repeated, gesturing for James to get on with it.

“And he said that you’ve got your job back.”

Jeremy suddenly went very still, even his breathing slowed to an almost undetectable rate. James saw Jeremy’s eyes grow dark and fall hidden under a furrowed brow as he peered down at the floor. James looked at him for a moment before remembering he still held onto the phone, and so he pulled up the voicemail from Richard and played it so Jeremy could hear. He watched as Jeremy’s face changed as he listened, his eyes shifting from clouded anger to slight disbelief, and back to some sort of pissed off. James waited for the message to end, and turned off the phone, tucking it back into the drawer where it belonged.

“Jez, are you okay?” James asked, watching as the man in front of him began to shake his head slightly.

“I don’t really know right now, to be honest.” Jeremy admitted, looking at him funny. James felt his stomach pang again. “I think I need some time, just to think.”

James nodded, and watched with concern as Jeremy turned and headed into their bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Going to sit on the couch, James dropped his body into the cushions below him, not particularly caring where he landed. He leaned back until his head tipped to rest against the back of the couch, his hair falling away from his face. He shut his eyes and sighed, running a hand through his hair, that was long enough now to tie back.

He knew something like this would inevitably happen, it had to. He’d constructed this perfect life with Jeremy out here, where nothing and no one would bother them. He had his peace and quiet, away from television commitments and meetings and paparazzi, and he had Jeremy, and that was all he wanted. But life was never perfect and he knew that one day something would happen that would change Jeremy’s mind. He was almost sure that regardless of how often Jeremy talked about not missing work, or London, that somewhere deep down inside, he truly did. James knew that cars and television were Jeremy’s passions, and it was selfish of him to think that he alone could provide enough for Jeremy that he wouldn’t need either of them any more.

He told himself to be happy, to be happy for Jeremy and Richard and everyone else involved, but he couldn’t. He didn’t even care if they gave asked him to come back, without realizing he’d even left in the first place.

His stomach turned uneasily at the thought of Jeremy packing his bags and leaving, going back to London, back to where Jeremy belonged to the world, and not in his. The sudden disgust at the thought of millions of eyes on Jeremy, watching him with a greedy hunger for more surprised him far less than he thought it would, especially after years of that kind of thing being normal for them, being an every day occurrence regardless of where they went. James had become so focused on Jeremy that he couldn’t imagine his life any other way.

“It never fucking fails” James murmured quietly under his breath, letting his head loll limply against the couch, sinking down deeper into it as he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

When James woke, it was to a dark house, the only light coming in through the open blinds, bathing the room in pale light. He could hear someone moving in the kitchen behind him, the sounds of cupboards opening and closing, feet padding on the floor in an attempt to be quiet. It was only when the sound of a ceramic mug collided loudly with the counter top did he sit up properly, neck stiff from where he’d fallen asleep.

“Jez, is that you?” He asked, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, turning so he could see over the couch. Jeremy stood in the kitchen, pyjama pants hanging off his hips, and bare chested. In his right hand, he clutched the handle of a coffee mug, the other one reaching out towards where he suspected the kettle was. James stretched his arms above his head, groaned, and stood up.

“Why are you making tea in the dark?” He murmured, holding on to the couch so he didn’t trip, and walked towards where Jeremy stood.

“I didn’t want to turn the lights on and wake you, you were fast asleep.” Jeremy replied. James exhaled softly as he eventually made his way to Jeremy, and wrapped his arms around Jeremy’s torso, leaning his head on his shoulder.

 “You could have, you know. Turned the lights on that is, I wouldn’t have cared if you woke me up. That couch was stiff as hell anyway.” James mumbled into Jeremy’s shoulder blade, the smooth skin of his back warmed by James’ exhalations. He closed his eyes, hands still clasped on the other side of Jeremy’s chest, just resting above the swell of his stomach. Jeremy’s slow breathing had James closing his eyes again.

"Yes well, I would have cared.” Jeremy replied, making James grin against his skin. Jeremy set the mug down once more, and lifted his hands away from the counter so he could unclasp James’ hands and turn around, so he faced him. Jeremy stared at him for a moment, the soft light of the room barely illuminating James’ face. His eyes were hazy with sleep, squinted slightly as he tried to make out Jeremy in front of him. Jeremy smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to James’ lips. James chuckled as he kissed Jeremy back.

“Feeling better then?” James asked, returning his arms to where they were wrapped before, clasping his fingers behind Jeremy’s back. Jeremy nodded, leaning forward to kiss James again.

“A bit.” He punctuated it with a kiss.

“Good.” James did the same.

“Shall we discuss this later? I can think of things I’d rather do right now.” James nodded, unhooking himself from Jeremy.

“Yes, me too. Bedroom?”

James didn’t give Jeremy time to answer, instead grabbing his hand and tugging him out of the kitchen. James didn’t want to think about real life, about work, about anything. He wanted to feel Jeremy, to focus all of his thoughts on him alone, and not worry about Jeremy walking out his door at any point. He was going to take Jeremy to bed, for what he hoped wasn’t the last time.

They walked as quickly as they could to the bedroom, taking care not to smash into anything in the dark, lest Jeremy walk into a cabinet and break something of James’. Once they’d made it without causing too much damage, James began to undress, seeing as he’d fallen asleep on the couch fully clothed. His jeans slid down his legs, followed by his t-shirt, both ending up in a neat pile on his floor. Jeremy had bypassed the undressing stage completely and simply crawled into bed, leaning against the headboard. James followed, moving so he straddled Jeremy’s thighs. Leaning forward, he kissed him, sliding his palms over Jeremy’s shoulders and down his back. Jeremy broke the kiss, leaning so he could lick a stripe up James’ neck, making him shiver. Jeremy set to sucking an angry red mark into the side of James’ throat, making him moan loudly in the process. Pulling away, Jeremy inspected the bruise, grinning darkly at how vivid it was.

“You’re horrible, that’s going to be so noticeable.” James groaned, skimming the tips of his fingers over the raised mark.

“That’s okay, people will know you’re mine then.” Jeremy countered, squeezing James’ thighs in his broad palms.

The masochist in James was secretly pleased at the angry bruise, knowing that every time he looked in the mirror, or felt it twinge in pain, he’d remember the way it felt to have Jeremy mark him. That thought sent a jolt of arousal through James, and he made a mental note to file that away to stew over later.

"Do you want to know what you do to me?" James growled, leaning so he could murmur into Jeremy’s ear. “Do you?” Payback time, James thought.

"Yes." His response was little more than a strained whisper. "Tell me. Show me."

Gladly, thought James.

He placed his palms over Jeremy’s, which still rested on his thighs. James could feel the tension coming from Jeremy, almost as if his muscles were straining with inaction, like a racehorse begging to run.

 "I watch you, Jeremy. Do you have any idea how often I look at you?" He exhaled a brief, self-conscious laugh. James shook his head. "I watch you constantly. I watch you cook, and clean, I watch as your eyes change in the light, I watch when you think I’m not." Jeremy lay still, waiting for James to continue. "Your body moves with such dedication and determination. I should be ashamed of wanting to take off your clothes constantly. All I want is to feel that body under my hands.”

He punctuated his sentence by sliding his palms under Jeremy’s legs, grabbing his arse in both hands and squeezing. Jeremy groaned loudly, thrusting upwards towards James, who shifted higher up Jeremy’s hips. He could feel Jeremy’s erection pressing against his legs, and so he ground his hips into it. This time, Jeremy said nothing, only sucking in a rapid breath, locking eyes with James.

James held his gaze, watching as desire flushed his skin, flared his nostrils, and dilated his pupils. James did it again, and watched as he got the same reaction a second time. Moving his hand away from Jeremy, he instead took hold of his cock, hard enough now from teasing Jeremy, and gripped the head tightly. He spat into his palm and began to stroke, slow up and down movements that had him tipping his head back and letting his exhalations rasp against his throat.

"Do you want to taste what you do to me, Jeremy?"

Jeremy’s head lowered in the start of a nod, but didn’t raise. James swiped his thumb across the tip of his cock, catching the droplet of creamy liquid and pressed his thumb to Jeremy’s swollen lips. James watched as Jeremy’s tongue poked out from between his lips and dragged his tongue across James’ thumb, sucking the entire digit into his hot mouth, sucking firmly. James shuddered deeply, his breath catching in this throat.

"Make me come, Jez."

"Yes."

James felt the affirmation against his thumb, Jeremy’s breath moving around the saliva soaked digit. He pulled away from James with a wet popping sound, pushing James off him gently, moving him so he lay flat on his back where Jeremy was moments before. Jeremy met James’ eyes as he kneeled, one palm on either side of James’ hips, before taking James’ length into his mouth. The heat of Jeremy’s mouth had James’ eyes rolling back into his skull, Jeremy sucking hard enough to make his cheeks hollow around him.

Threading a hand through Jeremy’s curls, James cupped the curve of Jeremy’s skull as he moved, finding a rhythm. Jeremy was silent as he sucked, the only sound coming from his slick mouth and James’ breathy noises that he couldn’t stop himself from making. A moan ripped it’s way from his throat as he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Jeremy’s, and the sudden clench of muscles that gripped it. Jeremy must’ve swallowed. That thought alone had James groaning, feeling the fizzy pressure building rapidly in his balls.

“God Jez,” James managed, “I…I felt that.”

Without stopping, Jeremy lifted a hand from the bed sheet and wrapped it around the base of James’ slick cock, squeezing on every suck. The sensory overload had James bucking up into Jeremy’s mouth.

“God, Jez! Fuck…you’re gonna make me come.”

His strokes were shorter now, faster. He was desperate to find that release for himself, desperate for Jeremy to make him come. He moaned, gasping for air. He could feel his muscles begin to tighten, the fizzy sensation almost unbearable now, silently begging Jeremy to go harder, faster.

One final stroke was all it took and James came with a shout, eyes slamming shut as he felt himself empty into Jeremy, chest rising and falling so hard he feared his heart would stop completely. He could feel Jeremy move away from his now softening cock, letting it out of his mouth gently before getting out of bed. When Jeremy returned, he had brought a damp cloth, and gently wiped at James, cleaning him off.

James was still trying to catch his breath when Jeremy climbed back into bed, rolling so he lay in Jeremy’s arms, his head against Jeremy’s chest.

“What about you, Jez?” James whispered, voice hoarse, “I feel bad.”

Jeremy ran his fingers through James’ hair, feeling the damp strands wrap around each finger.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” He replied. “And besides, all I wanted tonight was to make you feel good.” James nodded sleepily, and snuggled further into Jeremy’s grasp, until they both lay content under the warm sheets.

James was quiet for quite some time, long enough that Jeremy figured he’d fallen asleep, and when he spoke it was so quiet Jeremy nearly missed it.

"I love you," he murmured, a sleepy smile on his face, his eyes closed.

"I know," Jeremy answered back. "I love you, too."

“I don’t want to lose you.” James whispered.

Jeremy shook his head against the pillow. “Never, not again.”


	14. The Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took an exorbitantly long amount of time to write! Sorry about that. But it's written and if you're still reading this, thank you! There will either be one or two more chapters after this, but I'm kind of sad to think about it being finished. It's far too fun to delve into this little world every once in a while.

When James felt Jeremy stir beside him, it felt as though he’d not slept at all, his brain feeling as if it was left on screensaver mode for several hours when it should have been shut off entirely. He lay still, keeping his eyes shut in the hopes that maybe he would drift back into proper sleep, but Jeremy moving restlessly beside him forced him to fully acknowledge that he was in fact awake. Rolling to one side, he cracked an eye open, peering at the blurry numbers on the clock beside the bed. 6:17am. He sighed.

He knew what waking up meant, and he’d intended to delay it as long as possible today. He knew that he and Jeremy would have to talk. It was a cowardly move, but he didn’t care. It was his turn to be selfish, he assured himself as he shut his eyes again and forced himself to relax into the warm bed, next to a now still but softly snoring Jeremy. James focused on Jeremy’s breathing, the soft exhales coming from his throat. He wiggled his toes into the sheets, tucking them under his feet, feeling himself begin to drift off again, his thoughts wandering and disconnecting until he was snoring too. The daylight could wait a few hours more.

This time when he woke, it was to an empty bed. The sun had settled into the sky by now, the full rays breaking their way through the window, over the bed sheets, and into James’ eyes. He rubbed at them sluggishly as he sat up, forcing them to focus. He could hear Jeremy puttering around in the kitchen, and the call of caffeine had his legs out of bed and dragging him into the kitchen.

As loathe as he was to admit it, he wasn’t getting any younger and the new and slightly vigorous activities he and Jeremy had begun partaking in as of late were taking their toll on his body. His back ached and his leg muscles burned as he stepped into the kitchen, and in true old man fashion, he groaned as he sat at the kitchen table.

Jeremy chuckled as he turned, precariously holding coffees with one hand and a plate of jam and toast in the other.

“Stiff morning?” He asked, chuckling lightly as he sat, sliding the mug in front of James.

“I’m not 21 anymore, I can’t be up all night doing, well…whatever it was we do…” James trailed off, running a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face.

“Funny, that. You didn’t seem to be complaining much when it was happening.” Jeremy said with a crooked eyebrow, muffled by the mouthful of toast he’d rammed in before talking. James rolled his eyes and swiped a piece off the plate. “And besides,” Jeremy continued, “When you were 21 I can almost guarantee that you weren’t having much sex. Unless you’d figured out a way to build some sort of meccano sex toy thing. God, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

James didn’t reply, instead taking a bite of his slice of toast. Butter slid down the crust as he bit into it, dripping it’s way onto his lip.

Watching as it happened, Jeremy reached out from across the table and swiped it away with his thumb, sucking the buttery digit into his mouth. James watched as he did it, blue eyes following the path of Jeremy’s thumb from his mouth as he drew it into his own.

His brain would have been almost entirely occupied with that thought and where it would have lead, if it weren’t already full of the grey thoughts he had bouncing around, still making him as anxious as they did the night before. He sighed, staring into his mug.

“What? Coffee not up to your standards?” Jeremy asked, mouth clear of toast and butter this time. James shook his head.

“No, I just…I don’t know.” James mumbled. He wanted to bring it up, to get it out and into the open so they could talk about it, and he’d stop worrying.

“What don’t you know?” Jeremy asked, eyebrows furrowed. He regarded James carefully.

“Look, Jez. I think we should have that talk now.”

There. He’d said it. Now they had no choice but to discuss it.

It was Jeremy’s turn to sigh loudly. He suddenly and almost eerily looked years older, the youthful banter of moments earlier erased from his features. His mouth was set in a tight line, his eyes focused on the table in front of him. He was quiet as seconds ticked past.

“I don’t want to lose you again James.” Was all he said, low voice breaking the uncomfortable silence in the room. He’d yet to look up and James continued to stare.

James honestly wasn’t sure what he wanted himself. He wanted Jeremy to stay, to remain here in the woods, tucked away from civilization. But he wanted Jeremy to be happy, and he knew that happiness to Jeremy was his work, it always had been. They’d joked around, saying that when the time came, they’d buy a pub and disappear somewhere to be left alone, but now that the time had arrived James wasn’t so sure.

The sound of chair legs scraping against the floor had him focusing on Jeremy again. He watched as he stood, pinched a cigarette out of his pack and went out the front door.

James immediately knew what it must have felt like to Jeremy when he’d left England.

Trying to imagine life without Jeremy now seemed silly, like a far away scenario that had no right to actually happen. He tried to picture what it would be like if they stayed, away from their friends and family. Away from the busy city and loud exhaust pipes. James wasn’t sure he could be away from it himself, let alone Jeremy, and he wasn’t sure he could ask that Jeremy give it all up.

What he wanted was a home, a quiet life where he could spend his Sundays at Homebase with Jeremy, puttering through the store as they bickered about the proper size bolts to use on a fence gate, or deciding on who was cooking dinner that evening. It suddenly didn’t matter to James where that happened, as long as it did.

He didn’t want to hide anymore.

 

* * *

 

When the door re-opened, Jeremy was smiling.

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, James. You know that.” He began as he stepped back into the kitchen.

Leave it to Jeremy to get right into it, then.

James nodded, unsure of where he was going with this. His stomach clenched into knots as it did when he grew anxious.

“I fucked everything up, and I followed you here, not knowing what would happen. You forgave me when you had every reason not to, and for that I’ll be forever grateful. I love you more than I can tell you, and I’m still utterly amazed that for whatever reason you feel the same.”

James was about to interject, but Jeremy cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t care about working, you know just as well as I do that we both have enough that we’d never have to work again a day in our lives. It’s not that I’m worried about.” He explained, watching as James processed what he said. “I just…want you to be happy, is all.”

James smiled gently, whether he realized that Jeremy’s words echoed his own thoughts.

“Jez, you know that I’m happy. I don’t mean to be a sappy old sod, but as long as I’m with you I’m more than happy. This isn’t about me at all, at least it shouldn’t be. This is your career, your life…I’m just along for the ride.”

“Yes but I want _us_ to be happy. And if that means staying here, or going back to London than so be it.”

At this, James stood and walked over to Jeremy. He wrapped his arms around Jeremy’s middle, feeling Jeremy rest his own over his shoulders, pulling him closer. He lay his head on Jeremy’s shoulder, burying his nose in the crook of his neck and breathing in slowly. The familiar scent of cigarettes and aftershave filled his nose, bathing his senses in a smell that was simply Jeremy.

Tilting his head, he placed a small kiss on Jeremy’s neck. Jeremy reciprocated with a kiss to the top of his head.

Very suddenly, and very much so out of the blue, a thought popped its way into James’ head, one that had him squirming his way out of Jeremy’s clutches and his eyes wide. Jeremy tilted his head in confusion; a smile finding it’s way onto his face, erasing the tension from before.

“What is it?” Jeremy asked, grinning now. James mirrored the expression on his own face until both men beamed at each other.

“Do you still have that lighthouse?”

 

* * *

 

“Hello Richard.”

“Good lord man, I thought we’d lost you to the bears out there! How’ve you been?” Richard replied, the smile on his face clearly heard through the tinny phone James had dug out from wherever he’d hastily buried it.

“Fine, fine. It was nice being away from it all, you know?” James answered, watching fondly as Jeremy rifled through the cabinet drawers in their bedroom, flinging shirts onto the bed. He stuffed the ones he found into a suitcase, not bothering to fold them, making James roll his eyes.

“Good man. And how’s the orangutan?” Richard asked, almost as if he could tell James was looking at him with irritated fondness.

“Stubborn and insufferable as usual.” Jeremy snorted as James said it.

“The Canadian wilds haven’t knocked any sense into him then, I take it?”

“No, unfortunately not. A moving vehicle attempted it, but I’m not sure it worked.” James laughed.

“A moving vehicle? Is he okay? What the hell have you two gotten into out there?” A note of panic laced Richard’s voice as he spoke.

“He’s fine, a little stiff but okay. He can tell you all about it when we see you.”

“When he sees me? Have you finally kicked his sorry arse out?”

James could hear little voices in the background, and what sounded like singing coming from the television.

“Well, let me rephrase. When _we both see you_ that is.” He corrected, adding “Richard, are you watching a musical over there?”

Jeremy laughed, the sound buried by the fabric he was still digging through, this time the drawer full of his many pairs of blue jeans.

“God, no. The girls are watching Frozen again.” Richard groaned. “I’ve seen this bloody movie so many times I’m almost half tempted to fling the DVD out the window.” He replied, exasperated. “But wait, does that mean you’re both coming back?”

“Yes and no.” James answered simply.

“Yes and no? What the fuck does that mean?”

“We’re coming back to England, but we’ve decided to stay at Jezza’s lighthouse.” James proclaimed. “It’s far enough away that we won’t be disturbed, but still close enough to civilization that we’re not as… _isolated._ ”

Once again James could hear the grin on Richard’s face as he spoke.

“It’s about bloody time. I think you and he have had enough time out there to last a lifetime. I’m still surprised you didn’t kill him and hide him out there ages ago. I was about to do it myself, seeing as all he did was moan and groan, pining about you while he was here You should’ve seen the mess he made of his flat.

”James chucked. “Oh, believe me. I was tempted.” He froze, replaying Richard’s words in his head. “Did you say he _pined_ over me?”

“God yes, he was unbearable to be around. ‘ _James this and James that. Oh I wonder if he’ll ever love me, why am I so terrible,’_ etcetera.” Richard exaggerated, voice going lower as he mocked Jeremy.

This had James laughing loudly, as he knew exactly what Jeremy must’ve looked like. He made a mental note to buy Richard a beer or four when he returned, as a thank you for babysitting while he was away.

“Well, hopefully you’ve had and enjoyed your few months of peace and quiet because in a few days it’ll all be over.” James said, still smiling.

“Oh I’m so excited.” Richard said, his tone stating the complete opposite.

James finished relaying the details about when they’d arrive and so on before saying a final goodbye, and hung up the phone. He turned to Jeremy, who’d moved onto the closet, pulling his shirts off the hangars and stuffing them into the second suitcase he’d retrieved from under the bed.

Walking over, James wrapped his arms around Jeremy’s middle, hugging his back tightly.

“I’d never have pegged you as the pining type, Clarkson.” He murmured into Jeremy’s ear, holding him tighter as he squirmed, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Whatever that little shit told you is a lie, I was composed and manly. Like a Byronic hero.” Jeremy explained. “I vividly remember me in a wifebeater, staring into the distance as I planned my daring rescue of the reclusive and frankly quite furious James May from the Canadian wilderness.”

James snorted and kissed Jeremy, who’d managed to turn himself around. He kissed him deeply, savoring the way Jeremy’s tongue felt as it slid along his lip. Jeremy’s hands once again found their way into James’ hair, pulling the strands lightly as they kissed. Being the larger one of the pair, Jeremy used his body to push James backwards towards the bed, all without breaking the connection their lips made.

Only when the backs of James’ knees hit the mattress did they separate, James falling backwards onto the bed. Jeremy stood for a moment, taking in the man before him.

“I thought we had to finish packing, Mr. Hero?” James asked, voice low and dangerous.

“It can wait. You’ll end up unpacking my suitcase anyways and arranging it by colour or whatever.” Jeremy replied, eyes dark as he watched James begin to unbutton his shirt. “Let’s make use of the time we have left here, shall we?” He asked, winking. For the second time that day, James rolled his eyes.


	15. The Last Day in the Woods

The day had arrived, and James would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly terrified. He had become so accustomed to the silence of the forest, the lonely sort of calm that he could find walking around his cabin, freezing hands stuffed into the pockets of a jacket, cigarette hanging precariously from between his lips as he walked with no explicit purpose other than to think. He had fallen in love with the solitude living out here afforded him, and he was seriously tempted not to give it up now that he had it. But no, that would be selfish. He knew Jeremy had serious thinking to do about his career, and staying out here would do nothing but hinder that. James already felt guilty enough that he’d kept Jeremy to himself for as long as he had.

Granted, when he returned to England he would be tucked away from society again, but it honestly wasn’t the same, he knew nothing would ever be the same as out here. He didn’t think he’d ever find the peace of mind that the Canadian wilderness afforded him.

He stood outside the cabin, staring out towards the lake that seemingly stretched for an eternity, the behemoth pine trees that lined the edge of the water like sentinels, watching over him where he stood. The dawn air was crisp, the kind that hurt a little when you breathed it in, but he didn’t pay it any mind. The nagging, dark voice that licked at the edges of his conscious mind was as far away as it’d ever been, which surprised James, considering today was his last day in the woods.

He needed a moment out of the house, just a few seconds to recollect himself. He could already feel his anxiety creeping up on him, even moments after waking. And so he walked, stopping closer to the shoreline to center himself the way the woman he’d met in Burma had taught him how to do when he couldn’t calm his anxiety. A breath in, hold it for a few seconds, a breath out. He repeated the motions until his head swam pleasantly, not unlike the gentle current of the water lapping against the shoreline. He still felt the tug of worry, but pushed it away as best he could.

Jeremy had woken him that morning with a kiss, an innocent press of warm skin to warm skin in the early hours of the dawn. The softhearted graze of teeth on his lower lip, the way Jeremy slid his hand across the plains of James’ pliable back, he held the memory inside him like a glowing coal, savouring the heat that it radiated outwards through his chest when he recalled it. He was so besotted, for what he could legitimately believe was the first time in his life, with Jeremy and his own kind of grace.

Well, to call Jeremy graceful was in itself sort of an oxymoron, but James knew that grace wasn’t perhaps the correct word. Unmethodically pulchritudinous was as close as his still half asleep mind could grasp at, but he was unbothered. He had since learned to stop trying to put Jeremy in a neat little box, sentimentally or otherwise. But regardless, he was forever drawn by all of Jeremy’s quirks and thoughts. They filled the oblivion that his lonely life had begun to fall into.

And it shone a light on Jeremy’s suffering too, as blind as he was to it before he had shown up. It was nothing but a stinging rage before Jeremy came to him, a hurt so deep that he could almost feel it like a physical punch to the gut. They were both in dark places then, stuck in quicksand puddles that pulled them in the more they struggled against them. James knew they both felt the pain, and had now more than paid their debts to the darkness.

Taking a final painful breath of air, he turned and headed back to the house, the dim light he could see through the kitchen window beckoned him like a sailor to a lighthouse, eager to return to the warmth of his bed, and to Jeremy’s languid clutches.

God, he was going to miss this place.

 

* * *

 

By mid-afternoon their bags were packed and arrangements had been made for returning to England. All day, Jeremy could tell that James was preoccupied with something, the way his eyes seemed cloudy and distant, like a haze was covering his brain. After years of being around him, Jeremy could spot almost instantly when James was anxious, when he was moments away from a full blown panic attack that threatened the calm, compulsive world he had puttering about in his head. Instead of pestering, like he normally would, Jeremy kept his distance and observed James from a safe distance without causing more chaos. James had barely said a word to him all morning after coming inside, instead curling up weakly beside him in their bed for as long as he could manage before eventually getting up and beginning to unpack his cabinets.

Jeremy wasn’t unaccustomed to James’ anxiety at all. James’ angry reunion with him and Richard in Burma after the third time his lorry had broken down had James up nearly all night, and close to frustrated tears after having spent hours trying to remedy what looked like one impossible problem after another. The cameras never caught the way his hands shook like leaves when he was having one of his bad days, the way Richard always seemed to make himself scarce when James was eerily quiet and reclusive, leaving Jeremy to bring him cups of tea and sandwiches. On occasion, Jeremy wouldn’t hear from James for days, no texts or emails or calls.

One night, he showed up on Jeremy’s doorstep with hands near frostbitten and cheeks far too red, the tang of alcohol on his breath. Jeremy chalked it up to a drunken walk, and thought little of it. When it happened more frequently, two, three times a month, he began to worry. It ended when a drunken James confessed that he couldn’t stand the way his thoughts seemed to pile up when he was alone for too long and the black dog despair nipped at his ankles. James told him he got anxious often, and Jeremy told him he understood.

 

* * *

 

When Jeremy had finally finished his haphazard packing, he went to grab a water bottle and returned to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed beside James’ suitcase to watch while he finished filling it. He watched as James folded one shirt after another, laying them carefully in the bag. When it came time to zip the bag shut, Jeremy saw James’s hands reach for the zipper pulls at the top of the bag, but instead of closing it, he simply held them, his hands beginning to tremble. He could hear the metal rattling as James stood motionless, staring at the bag. This, Jeremy recognized quickly, was the breaking point they’d been edging around all day. James bit his lip and looked up at Jeremy pleadingly.

James’ glassy, watery blue eyes had Jeremy up and at his side almost instantly, a hesitant hand placed on his back as worry coursed through him, mentally trying to figure out how to diffuse this. Turning suddenly, James wrapped both arms around Jeremy, stuffing his head against Jeremy’s shoulder while he shook. Jeremy could feel him trembling, and his heart ached for the man in his arms. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone dealt with things as nonchalantly as he did, James being the perfect example. Jeremy sighed, and lifted his palm so it rest against the back of James’ head, threading his fingers through his hair and rubbing softly to try and calm him while the man cried a wet patch into the fabric of his shirt.

“Honey, hey…” Jeremy whispered in James’ ear, “it’s alright, look at me. What’s wrong?”

James didn’t move, his face still buried in the crook of Jeremy’s neck. Jeremy let him stay motionless against him for as long as he needed, but eventually he lifted his head. He stared at the floor, not meeting Jeremy’s eyes, his hair falling across his face. Jeremy reached out, putting a finger under his chin and tipped it upwards so their eyes met. When James cried there was a terrifying rawness to it, as it didn’t happen often. His sobs were stifled at first as he attempted to hide his grief, a single tear escaping its way out and rolling down his face, followed by another until his cheeks were stained with them. When he at last turned his face to Jeremy, he could barely look him in the eye. Shame etched itself in the lines on his face, and Jeremy hated it more than he could express. He felt so fucking helpless when James got like this. He pushed the hair out of James’ face, tucking it away behind his ears before speaking once more.

“James, love, what’s wrong?” Jeremy questioned again, his arms still around him.

When James spoke, his voice was rough from disuse. “I’m sorry Jezza, I shouldn’t be like this.” He said quietly, shaking his head in self-disgust.

“Like what? Anxious?”

James nodded, cobalt eyes still glassy with tears. Jeremy grimaced, and tugged him tighter against his chest. He silently promised himself he would always love this man with all he had, because the sight of his anguish had Jeremy aching alongside him.

“It’ll all be fine, I swear to you James. We can make this work, and when it doesn’t we can figure it out.” Jeremy pleaded, knowing he was babbling but scrabbled for purchase on words he thought might help. “It’s going to be fine, all of it. I didn’t know you were so worried about leaving…”

“I just…I can’t help it sometimes, and you know how I get about everything. The anxiety, it just sort of…takes over.” Jeremy nodded sympathetically, and James continued. “I really just…love it here. It’s hard to let it go, you know?” He managed before the tears began to spill again, lingering on his eyelashes before they dropped off towards the floor. Jeremy swiped at one that fell on James’ cheek, wiping it away with his thumb before sliding his palm to cup James’ chin.

“We’ll visit, I can promise you that. It’s not hard to fly back whenever you feel like you need it, okay?” He murmured, a thumb resting on James’ lower lip before pulling his hand away all together.

It was James’ turn to nod as he began to untangle himself from Jeremy’s long arms once more. He reached out though, clasping one of Jeremy’s hands in his own and threaded their fingers together so that their palms touched.

“And James,” Jeremy began, “if you want to find a way to help deal with this anxiety, we can do that too you know…I’d come with you, and we can figure out the best way to help keep it at bay…” Jeremy spoke hesitantly, unsure about his words and the effect they’d have. That in itself unsettled James slightly, who was used to Jeremy’s steadfast confidence in just about everything he did and said. He didn’t want him to have to tiptoe around him.

“Yeah, I suppose it’d help. God, I feel like a fucking wreck…I’m sorry Jez.”

“Don’t apologize. That’s why I’m here, to take this shit out on, right?” James nodded sheepishly. “If you didn’t, you’d sit and let it linger, and that leads to an explosion and…” Jeremy wanted to say they both knew how that ended, but instead trailed off, not wanting to rehash old, better off forgotten memories. James didn’t feel like bringing any of that up either, so he instead wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and leaned forward to kiss Jeremy, who returned it with warm, welcoming lips.

“I love you, you know…you big daft man…” Jeremy managed in between kisses, and he felt James smile against him for the first time that day. Jeremy’s heartbeat slowly resumed it’s normal pace from how it’d been hammering away in his chest the entire morning, the weight of worry lifted from his shoulders. He hoped James felt the same.

“I love you too Jezza. Always, no matter what.”

It was in that moment that an idea popped into Jeremy’s head, a small dangerous one that had crossed his consciousness before, however briefly. But this time, it managed its way to the front of his brain and lingered there for him to think about in detail later.

He knew one thing though; when they went home, he would begin to _properly_ set his idea into motion.

 

* * *

 

The sun had finished it’s steady decent towards the horizon, and by the time James and Jeremy had made it to Vancouver International, only remnants of the fiery ochre sunset that had followed them most of the way could be seen against the dark clouds that had followed the moon. The airport was fairly bog standard as far as airports went, and yet this time around Jeremy had the chance to look around as opposed to looking at the bottom of a gin and tonic for the duration of his visit.

By the time they’d made it into the actual lounge area with their bags, Jeremy could feel his fingers beginning to twitch, aching for the feel of a cotton filter between them, the sharp sting of nicotine as it rushed down his throat into his lungs. One look at James confirmed to Jeremy that he was experiencing the same cravings, and so he just about dragged the man out of the doors to the nearest exit and pulled his pack out, jamming a cigarette between his lips as James mimicked the same motions. The first pull from the smoke had him closing his eyes in bliss, a much-needed calm washing over him as he stood under a glass roof that spanned the length of the small patio they stood on, tucked away from the bedlam that most airports consisted of. As the two smoked in comfortable silence, Jeremy turned back to look into the lounge and was suddenly almost bowled over with déjà vu. He swung his gaze back to James.

“You know James, this is where I sat months ago. I was over there.” He gestured with the hand holding the cigarette back towards the lounge, near the same group of chairs he’d sat in. “I was sitting there, in the brown chair near the wall. It was some god-awful time in the morning and there were these two guys on laptops and I was about ready to drown myself in my gin. I was hoping I wasn’t making the second biggest mistake in my life, and they puttered about on MacBooks as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.”

James gave Jeremy a soft smile but he didn’t see, his eyes unfocused and far away as he stared again at the lounge. He continued in a low voice, almost as if he was talking to himself now.

“I was scared shitless, absolutely terrified. I don’t remember getting on the plane at all, just…sort of moving from one place to another on autopilot. None of it felt _real_ …”

A few moments of silence passed, before James replied, springing Jeremy out of his reverie. “It was, and I’m glad you did it.”

Jeremy regarded him for a moment before nodding.

“I’m glad I did too.”

Jeremy turned away once more, placed his cigarette back between his lips, and reached out unconsciously for James’ hand, but James pulled it away quickly. Jeremy frowned, unsure of what he’d done.

“We’re in public Jezza, you can’t forget that now. No more touching.”

Jeremy sighed, reality kicking in. He’d forgotten they couldn’t just _touch_ one another for the sake of touching anymore, not without privacy or consequences. Furrowing his brow at the man in front of him, he rolled his eyes in agreement. Damn James for always being the sensible one. “Yes, yes, alright. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He illustrated his compliance by stepping backwards quickly, eyebrows and palms raised. James rolled his eyes, about to retort but Jeremy wasn’t having any of it.

“Now listen here, May. We’re alone in a lounge at nearly three in the morning, I’m fairly sure I can hold your hand for a moment without the world ending.” He paused, but seemed to be struck with an idea. “Or better yet…”

Flicking his smoke off the patio, he stepped forward and grabbed James by the collar of his jacket, and kissed him soundly. James let a small sound escape his throat as Jeremy bit his lower lip roughly between his teeth before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue, and the internal alpha male in Jeremy did a little whoop of pride. James felt himself beginning to get lost in the kiss, wanting nothing more in that moment of exhausted bliss to sink to his knees and show Jeremy that he could push back just as hard. But the reminder of where they were had him returning to his senses, and James put a hand against Jeremy’s chest and pushed him off before looking around quickly, lips beginning to grow full and red. A dark grin had spread it’s way across Jeremy’s face and when James met his eyes again, he knew exactly what explicit things were bouncing around in his head. James tried to make the small shudder that ran through him when Jeremy looked at him like that as inconspicuous as possible, but he was sure Jeremy had seen.

“You’re a pillock, you know that?” James said instead, mock anger in his tone as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his free hand and flicked his finished cigarette away. Jeremy still eyed him dangerously.

“You love it.” He growled, leaning close again as his voice dropped even lower. And oh fuck how James did; he loved every minute of it. This perilous game Jeremy was playing had his head spinning and his heart beating faster than it should be. He was an adult for chrissakes, he shouldn’t be getting this flustered. Judging by the colour rising in Jeremy’s cheeks, he was in the same boat.

“Wait until we’re home, alright?” James said, returning to his usual, closed off self. He hated to do that to Jeremy, but if things continued the way they were, the two of them would have more than a job fiasco to return to. The Daily Mail would have a bloody field day…

Jeremy sighed loudly, but pursed his lips in petulant agreement, looking like a toddler who’d just been told a very firm ‘no’. As the pair turned to head back through the doors into the lounge, James leaned in to Jeremy, mouth close to his ear and a thumb against his cheek.

“Patience is a virtue, Clarkson.” He illustrated his point with a wink, and walked off into the lounge.

Jeremy stared for a minute, cursing both virtues and the man in front of him very loudly in his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I promise I've not forgotten about this story, and an ending is in sight. Some minor things, however. If you got a notification that Chapter 15 was up, that's because it was. I wasn't happy with how I'd written it though, so I pulled it and edited. Also, I've done some minor fixing up (formatting, grammar, typos and bits that I didn't like) to the rest of the story, so if for whatever reason some parts are different, that's why :)
> 
> If you're still here reading this silly story, thank you beyond words. It means a lot.


	16. The Brilliance of Reunion

James could feel his pulse begin to pick up, the telltale pull of panic making his breath hitch on every shaky inhale he took of English air that wasn’t tainted with nicotine and tobacco smoke like he’d have preferred it to have been. Actively ignoring the sudden and crippling need to grab at Jeremy’s warm palm and lace it among his own, he stepped out of the long walkway into the airport and let a sigh of relief escape his lips. The entire flight he’d been anticipating photographers and paparazzi in hoards, waiting their arrival with bated breath in the hopes of catching one of them with their guard down as they returned from wherever they’d speculated that the duo had disappeared to. He mentioned it to Jeremy in passing on the flight, and Jeremy just told him not to worry in that irritatingly distracted way he spoke when he was focusing his attention on a solitary thing. His tone also told James that he knew something that James didn’t, and that helped squash his panic ever so slightly.

Instead, the airport was fairly empty, not a single camera in sight, letting them walk unbothered away from the plane and into the dark waters James knew awaited them both. Tugging on his luggage behind him, James followed behind Jeremy who strode quickly towards the walkway that led to the Arrivals exit, his suitcase wobbling as it was just about dragged by the taller man. They walked in silence, a respectable distance between them that James was now aware of, whereas he’d never been before. Now he had to calculate how close he stood, how long he looked, how he laughed when Jeremy was near, as to not let any miniscule hint of what had transpired between them slip. The thought was enough to drive him crazy, and so he pushed it out of his mind as best he could.

James suddenly wondered what it was that Jeremy had said to Richard when he’d called, as the absence of their friend at the exit meant he must have told him not to come. His suspicion was confirmed when Jeremy rounded on him and told him they were to catch a connecting flight in less than an hour to the Isle of Man. That would mean they would be going straight from the Birmingham Airport to Jeremy’s house, not returning to London as he originally thought.

Eyes squinted with confusion, James furrowed his brow. “What did you tell Richard when you phoned?”

Smiling gently, Jeremy regarded James with an expression that told him Jeremy had kept something from him.

“I told Richard that we arrived tomorrow, not today. We’re meeting him in London for dinner. I figured we could use night to…settle.”

James took a moment to process the information he’d been given, letting it sink in deeply amongst the plethora of slightly stress inducing thoughts he had rattling about in his brain. That meant…a day of Jeremy, just Jeremy. All to himself. In that moment of understanding, he could have kissed the man in front of him for all the world to see and wouldn’t have cared, but the rational portion of his brain stepped in and prevented him from doing so.

Instead, James just beamed at him through heavy eyes. “You’re a genius Clarkson.”

“I’ve been saying that for years, shame it took so long for you to figure it out.”

James rolled his eyes, too elated to put any real sarcasm behind it.

Waiting by the gate for their flight, they sat opposite each other, putting a distance between themselves only made up for by occasional glances over screens that made James stomach do funny things each time it happened. Like clockwork, he could feel grey eyes on him again as his own blue orbs stared unfocusedly at the ground, letting his thoughts swirl freely. Feeling his phone vibrate in his hand, he looked up at the screen. A text from Jeremy lingered there.

_‘I love you.’_

It was James’ turn to look up, but Jeremy was suddenly very focused on whatever he was doing on his phone and stubbornly didn’t meet his gaze. The unprovoked expression from Jeremy had him smiling, but James wanted to get back at him for his shamelessness on the balcony earlier, and so he quickly typed out a message, and waited until he heard Jeremy’s phone vibrate seconds later when it arrived. His eyes lingered again as Jeremy read it, his expression telling James everything he couldn’t physically say. A seed of smugness blossomed as he watched Jeremy’s thumbs instantly type out his reply.

 _‘And what does that entail, exactly?’_ was all it said.

He took a moment to decide on his words, going for maximum impact. He put his thumbs against the glass of his iPhone, smirking as he typed. While James wasn’t the best with actual conversations, he could write, and he could write _well._

The next time he looked up at Jeremy, a red flush that wasn’t there a moment ago had bloomed on his cheeks. Pride settled in next to the smugness and he grinned down at the screen, going back to his game of Battleship. It was silent on Jeremy’s end for longer this time, and James was beginning to doubt he’d get anything back, but as if on cue his phone vibrated. The reply was longer this time, and he opened the unread message.

_‘You think I’m going to let you get away with that? You think I’m not going to ravage you the minute we step foot in that door, my hands in your hair and my lips pressed against that spot on your neck I know makes you moan like a whore? What if I get to you first? What if I have you so hard you ache, begging me to take you to bed and have you face down in the sheets, your body open and waiting for me to ruin, shaking with anticipation?’_

James was instantly painfully hard. His blood was pumping loudly enough through his veins that he could hear it rushing past his ears. Steeling himself, he made himself meet Jeremy’s eyes and regret it immediately. The heat he saw there was scalding, like a physical brand against his skin and so he immediately flicked his eyes down, feeling his cheeks flush.

Their flight is suddenly called, and he nearly runs to the gate.

 

* * *

 

One minute he was walking up the drive, admiring the view of the house, the next he found himself being shoved quite forcefully against the large oak front door, his back hitting it hard enough to make it rattle. Jeremy lunged at him, his hands everywhere all at once, sliding up his neck and into his hair as he kissed him, his fingers tangling amongst James’ greying strands. Their previous gentleness was long abandoned as the two men fought for control over the kiss, entirely teeth and firm tongues sliding against each other in what was quite frankly a pornographic manner. James couldn’t help the soft, pitiful whimpers that were spilling out of him and into Jeremy’s shoulder as he sucked a vicious bruise behind his ear, biting at the irritated skin with sharp teeth before smoothing it over with a wide swipe of his tongue. A kiss on his ear, down his jawline, another pressed against his jugular. The sounds spurred Jeremy on further as he shoved James’ thighs apart roughly and pressed a knee between them so James could feel Jeremy’s hardness against his own.

The bites went lower down his neck until Jeremy found the spot he promised he would, and sucked, worrying it expertly enough that a loud moan was ripped from James’ throat, making Jeremy buck his hips against him. Abandoning James’ neck temporarily, Jeremy again found his mouth, kissing James so obscenely that he began to get dizzy. Placing a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, James pushed gently, breaking the kiss. He didn’t want this to begin and end in Jeremy’s front hall.

“We should…” James began, slightly breathless and wild eyed.

Jeremy nodded, pupils blown out so wide James couldn’t tell where the black ended and the blue began. “Yes, bedroom now.”

James didn’t need to be told twice.

They stripped in silence; James folded his clothes carefully and left them on the dresser. Jeremy’s ended up in a heap on the floor.

James was the first to strip entirely, and so he lay in the large bed watching Jeremy with hungry eyes as he peeled his jeans from his legs and flung them off into the darkness of the bedroom. When he too was nude, he turned and just about stalked his way to the bed, eyes locked on James’ as he moved the covers to the end of the bed and laying down beside James. The room was silent, save for their heavy breaths and the sounds their lips made as they crashed amongst one another, every so often a small sound escaping James’ mouth. He could feel Jeremy against his leg, hot and harder than he could ever remember him being, and that thought alone made his heart pound quicker. He wasn’t in much better a situation himself, the ache between his legs radiating outwards across his lower half and up into his abdomen, the muscles there jumping and clenching as Jeremy dragged his fingertips up and down James’ impressive length.

Pulling away from James, who whined slightly at the loss of contact, Jeremy sat up on his knees. He watched as James licked his lips with carnal intention, tugging his lower lip between his teeth.

“Hand and knees, James. _Now_.” Was all he managed to rasp out, his voice dropping octaves so it came out as a deep purr.

James obeyed, turning himself so he rest on forearms and knees, bum towards Jeremy, but Jeremy wanted more. Placing a hand between James’ shoulder blades, he pushed down, forcing James’ arms out from underneath him and his cheek into the soft sheets below him. His arms moved so they lay on top of each other above his angled head. The sight of James so open, spread out like a feast before him had his breath catching in his throat, knowing what he could do to the man in front of him.

Placing both hands on the small of James’ back, Jeremy took his time sliding his palms towards James’ arse, letting his short nails draw pink lines on James’ pale flesh.

He stopped his movements when he arrived at James’ bottom, and began to knead the skin softly, letting his thumbs push and pull James apart in front of him, spreading him even wider.

Jeremy pulled James’ thighs farther apart and rocked back onto his knees, holding James open with one hand, trailing a finger across his cleft with the other. Every pass had him pushing deeper, further against James’ sensitive skin until his finger rasped against the spot that made James clench his muscles sharply and gasp against the sheets.

“Don’t move”

James obeyed, not daring to move a muscle in case Jeremy decided to stop. Jeremy did the exact opposite in fact, beginning his ministrations again, pulling James far enough apart for him to drag his tongue along the path where his finger had been seconds before, fingers gripping James’ skin tightly enough to keep his hips still.

A steady stream of whimpers began to spill from James’ mouth, pleas and cries of Jeremy’s name amongst them as Jeremy slicked his tongue against his hole, stopping to dart out every few passes and press in gently to the tight ring of muscle. James’ cock twitched against his belly, leaving beads of precum in the sparse dark patch of hair and he slammed his eyes shut, his shoulders beginning to ache from being smashed into the bed.

His whimpers turned into cries, and he was too far-gone to be ashamed of how fucking badly he needed Jeremy in that moment, how desperately he needed to feel him against his skin, his dignity be damned. Jeremy must have sensed it, stopping his ministrations to again slide his finger along James’ now dripping wet cleft, pressing gently into James so that his fingertip disappeared into him easily. Gasping, James sucked in air rapidly as Jeremy began to press in again, angling his finger upwards so it hit that spot inside him that made his thighs quiver.

One finger was replaced with two, and two with three as Jeremy stretched James out slowly, tantalizingly. Jeremy wanted to hear James beg for it, the sadistic voice in his head urging him to draw it out for hours, until James dripped with sweat and precum and could barely keep his legs still, crying out for release.

Stopping only to retrieve the bottle of lubricant he kept in the drawer, Jeremy continued with only his fingers, crooking them upwards on every thrust so they massaged James’ prostate with a savage ease, putting pressure on it with each insertion. Jeremy dragged it out for what felt like hours, until he could hear James’s cries melt into a steady stream of whines, drawn out and ragged only interrupted by deep gasps of air.

When he eventually pulled his fingers out, James cried out loudly, the loss of sensation driving him insane. His legs had turned to jelly, and he looked like he was on the verge of collapse. Jeremy wanted nothing more in that moment than to see the look on James’ face, the wrecked expression on his features that made his eyes dark and far away. And so Jeremy gently pushed on him again, moving him so he lay on his back, giving his aching knees a rest. His eyes were smashed shut, brow furrowed tightly in what Jeremy assumed was a mix of both pain and pleasure, and so he placed tender kisses on James’ eyelids, cheeks and mouth.

James, unable to force words from his raw throat, whispered quietly into the still air of the room. “God, Jezza please… _please_ …”

“Please what, James?”

“Just fuck me already, I can’t…bear it any longer.”

Jeremy didn’t need to be told twice, already squeezing lubricant into his hot palm and slicking his aching length, putting the rest to use on James’ already quite wet hole. Pulling his legs up slowly, he draped them both over his shoulders and pressed the tip of his cock against James, but didn’t thrust in.

James groaned, eyes open now and staring at Jeremy with a look of pure rapture. With a sharp thrust of his hips, Jeremy couldn’t draw it out any longer, and let his cock sink into James entirely, his pelvis up against James’ arse.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with the smell of desire and sweaty bodies on freshly laundered sheets, cries from both men bouncing off the furniture. Jeremy was so wound up he knew he wouldn’t last long, and judging by the way James had begged to be fucked, he wouldn’t either.

“Fuck James I’ve missed this…” Jeremy ground out from between clenched teeth as he thrust forcefully into the man below him.

"Me too. That text had me hard the whole fucking flight..." James confessed.

"I'm making good to my promises, then." Jeremy ground out, gripping James' thighs with tight fingers, muscles in his arms straining.

“I’m so fucking _close Jer-emy god I can fu-ck-ing feel it_ …” James mewled, arms outstretched sideways, fingers ripping up the sheets as they dug into them.

Jeremy was close too, very close. “Come for me James, I want to see you when you come. You’re so beautiful.”

James opened his eyes just his orgasm tore through him, clenching tightly around Jeremy who cried out and began to empty himself inside James. White lights flashed behind James’ eyelids and his mind went blissfully blank for a few moments of silence, the force of his orgasm knocking the breath out of his lungs.

Letting his legs slide off Jeremy, James lay boneless on the bed, trying to catch his erratic breath. Jeremy collapsed beside him, clearly in the same state that he was as he panted hard enough to ruffle the bed sheet.

It was with a soft, raspy voice and closed eyes when James finally spoke.

“If that’s the way we christen a new house, we should move more often.”

Jeremy chucked deeply, his body shaking from his laughter. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. _Or_ we can pretend to move and just stay here and shag.”

“More practical, your idea. God, those are words I never thought I’d have to say…”

Jeremy reached out to smack James on the leg lightly.

“I do love you though. Very much.” James murmured, rolling onto his side to look at Jeremy, who nodded thoughtfully. James was never one for soppy displays of affection, but he couldn’t seem to help himself around Jeremy. He felt the man amongst his bones, slotted in along with his vital organs like he’d been there forever.

“I love you too James. Now let’s sleep, we face the wrath of the tiny man tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

A cool breeze had settled it’s way across London as the sun set on the busy city, the streetlights beginning to flicker on and lights in houses glowed through closed blinds. Jeremy and James stepped out of a cab in front of the restaurant they were to meet Richard at, the sound of cars sloshing though puddles on the streets providing a soundtrack while they smoked, waiting for him to arrive. A knot of worry settled itself in James’ mind, but he quickly reminded himself that it was only Richard, and he had missed him very much.

Eventually a cab pulled up and Richard stepped out, grinning widely at the two men he hadn’t seen for months. Jeremy immediately flung his cigarette when he saw him step onto the sidewalk and engulfed him in a hug, pressing him tightly to his chest. Stepping towards him, James waited for Jeremy to release him and did the same, much to Richard’s surprise.

“Good lord it’s nice to see you two again. I was beginning to wonder if I ever would.” Richard said, still smiling widely. “It’s been, god…months!”

“Yes yes, we know.” Jeremy spoke, holding the door open for the two men to walk through into the restaurant. “We were very tempted not to come back, you know. But then we realized you would probably go insane without us to keep you company.”

Rolling his eyes, Richard sat at the table and turned towards James. “I’m shocked you didn’t murder him, really. He was a bloody nightmare to deal with here, I can’t imagine how he was in the cold.”

James smiled, looking at Jeremy with fond eyes. “He wasn’t so bad, when he learned how to keep his mouth shut for more than fifteen minutes…”

Jeremy scoffed. “Now James, we both know you _love_ it when my mouth is anything but shut.”

A scandalized expression immediately crossed Richard’s face and he covered his ears comically. “Oh god, I really didn’t need to hear that. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat any more, we may as well go home.”

James rolled his eyes, and Jeremy, smug as ever just grinned at the smaller man and pawed at the drinks menu, pulling his glasses out of his front pocket and leaning forward to read it with intent.

Richard asked about the house, what they did, and how in the hell Jeremy managed to end up in the hospital. They ate while they talked, answering the plethora of questions Richard had. By the time their drinks had been refilled for a third time, Richard cleared his throat and suddenly looked very serious, the lines in his face exaggerated by the soft lighting in the room.

“So Jeremy, have you uh…given my message any thought?” He hesitantly asked over the rim of his wine glass, eyes flicking between the two men opposite him.

“Of course I have Richard, it’s kind of bloody important.”

“I didn’t tell you when I’d phoned, but um…there was a meeting. _Sort of_ …”

James cut in. “Sort of? What kind of meeting?”

Richard paused, searching for the right words that he thought would prevent him getting punched in the face by either of the two. “Well, Andy and I kept in touch with Tony, who was very… _adamant_ …that we all discussed what the next steps would be.”

Jeremy and James were silent, waiting with baited breath for Richard to continue.

“Anyways, we met and talked about well…you and Top Gear. And I told Tony that if you weren’t going to be reinstated, that James and I wouldn’t do the show. Without you, that is…” He rushed the last part of his sentence, eyes dropping to the table.

“So what you’re saying is, you quit on my behalf?” James asked, and Richard nodded quickly.

“Andy said he’d quit too, if that’s any consolation. But that was only if you weren’t allowed back. I didn’t think that James would want to continue to do a show that…well, that we all weren’t a part of.” Richard looked at James.

The table was silent for a moment while they absorbed what Richard had said. It was Richard who broke the silence.

“That was only if you weren’t coming back. But you know they want you back Jezza, Tony told me that you could come back.”

“Yes, Richard I know.” Jeremy murmured, shaking his head minutely, brow knotted in concentration as he thought. “But what if I don’t want to come back?”

This had both Richard and James’ eyes snapping to Jeremy.

“What do you mean?” James asked. Jeremy continued to shake his head, harder this time.

“They’re quick to fire me, to undermine my accomplishments for both myself and the BBC, and when they realize what my absence takes with it, they hire me back? As if my career is some sort of game? I’m not some schoolboy who fights with someone and then is suddenly _allowed_ back to the class when they agreed he’d sorted himself out.” Jeremy replied, voice louder with each passing second. “Maybe I don’t want to go back to that utter bullshit. Maybe this is the kick in the arse we all need to step back and...do something _great_ , on our own…”

“What, like start our own show?” James asked, eyebrow raised and Jeremy nodded, grinning widely now, all traces of his previous resentment gone, and only excitement there instead.

“Yes, exactly that! We can still make brilliant television, just on our own terms now, not theirs.”

Richard looked at Jeremy with a dawning realization that what he was saying could work, and would work spectacularly. It would take a lot of planning, and an army to get things started, but the three of them were a powerhouse when they set their minds to something. Jeremy and Richard both turned to James, waiting for his answer.

His blue eyes flicking between his best friend and his partner, he cleared his throat before speaking. “Well chaps, now that we’re three unemployed men, I’m most definitely not paying for this dinner.”

 

 

 


	17. The Lighthouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem in this chapter is 'As I Ebb'd with the Ocean' by Walt Whitman.

 

_**James** _

 

The sun had begun its steady descent into the horizon as their car pulled up along the gravel drive, the tires crunching against the small stones as they rolled slowly towards the house at the end of the long, winding road. Bright orange light spilled across the dashboard of the Mercedes, the warmth of it could be felt through the windows and heated the faces of the two men inside as they drove towards the tall structure in comfortable silence.

It was when James stepped out of the passenger seat that the silence was ended, instead replaced with the sound of the waves beneath him crashing into the rocky escarpment that circled the lighthouse. The sting of salt filled his senses immediately, and for the briefest of moments, James felt like he was submerged in the brine, instead of above it, admittedly still slightly overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the last few days.

He and Jeremy had finished their dinner with Richard, parting with hugs and promises of great things to come, and retired to their hotel room where they decided they’d spend the night before making the trip to the Isle of Man. James knew Jeremy would have offered his flat for the night, but if he was being honest he didn’t want to see the state it had most likely been left in. The hurricane of depression that Jeremy had allowed himself to become had left wreckage and detritus in the form of liquor bottles and takeaway boxes that still lay untouched in his home, the blinds still most likely shut tight, and while James didn’t know the extent of neglect that had become commonplace, James knew most of all that Jeremy didn’t want to step back under that misty veil of self-loathing that had settled like a dense fog in every room of the flat.

Instead, they spent the night under plush white sheets, pulled up close around their shoulders as they spoke in little more than hushed whispers until the early hours of the morning.

When James had resurfaced from his quiet reverie, letting the feelings float off him, the first thought that popped into his head was just how vastly blue everything felt, as opposed to the sprawling sea of green he had grown accustomed to.

Forgetting both his bags and Jeremy for the moment, James wandered forward, walking past the vast white lighthouse and the buildings around it without a second glance and headed towards the edge of the grass-covered land, where the drop to the turbulent waters below wasn’t nearly as steep, but more of a gradual incline.

Jeremy watched from beside the car with cautious eyes as James grew smaller against the sienna horizon, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his olive green jacket as the wind whipped his long hair around his face. The sun was still blinding enough in it’s slumber that Jeremy couldn’t make out more than just James’ silhouette, but he smiled to himself, knowing that James would be taken by the presence of the water, vastly encompassing just about everything in almost every direction save for the way they came. The image of James, standing stock still against the setting sun as the glow of the sunset flickered against the ebb and flow below them would be burned into his mind forever, the notion cemented by the sharp pull Jeremy felt in his chest as he watched.

When James had reached his destination, he let the toes of his shoes just barely hang off the edge, and peered out into the distance. He watched as the water lapped against itself, folding and breaking in perpetual motion, the wind making it move even more eagerly. The salt spray hit his face, mist forming into actual droplets of water and rolling down his cheeks and off his chin.

He didn’t hear Jeremy approach, the loud crashing from the water hid his gravely footsteps, and was only alerted to his presence when two heavy arms wrapped around his midsection and pulled backwards gently.

“Wouldn’t want you to fall in…” was murmured quietly in his ear, Jeremy’s hot breath meeting his skin in sharp contrast to the cool misty air around him. He shivered, but remained still and silent.

Jeremy continued, lips still close enough to James that he felt them brush his neck when he spoke. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He whispered, “I knew you’d fall in love. The sun rises early, and you can see the pale light rip through the clouds. The way it hits the water, it’s almost tempting to just walk right in, as if it was beckoning you forwards.”

James could picture it, the dull grey clouds that hung heavy in the sky, parted just enough for the white rays of morning sunlight to beam through, the pink horizon turning the waters yellow where the light met the calm ocean.

He closed his eyes; letting just the sounds of the water below him and the man breathing behind him fill his senses. Leaning his head back against Jeremy’s shoulder, he felt a kiss pressed to his temple. James sighed contentedly. This was all he ever wanted, really. It was a heavy feeling to know he had it, and in copious quantities.

When what he thought had to have been an eternity passed, James heard his name whispered in his ear and felt the arms around him unfold as he opened his eyes to turn around. Taking one final look at the water below him he turned to face Jeremy, who stood with a palm outstretched.

Grasping it, James let Jeremy hold it tightly in his much larger one, before covering it with his other hand. Jeremy’s eyes had gone glassy as he stared at James’ own azure ones, and James felt his stomach flip. He was so unbearably besotted with the man in front of him, he wasn’t sure what it felt like to not love Jeremy. They stared in silence for only a moment longer before Jeremy slowly began to move again, dropping down to one knee in front of him.

His stomach did more than flip then.

 

 

_**Jeremy** _

 

He patted his pocket for what must have been the fifth time that afternoon, making sure the tiny black box was where it should be, resting warmly against his thigh. He checked once when they’d checked in to the hotel, and again in the morning while he dressed and James showered. The box itself must have only weighed a few grams but he had felt it’s heavy presence all day, seeming more like a brick of solid gold than some felt and plastic.

James couldn’t know, couldn’t even so much as fathom what Jeremy had planned. It had to be perfect.

His fingers brushed against it multiple times again after that, mostly when he roughly stuffed his hand in his jeans to search for a lighter or his entire pack of cigarettes after the cab had picked them up to take them to the airport, and afterwards when they landed and Jeremy growled something about lack of nicotine over the last few days and how much he absolutely fucking despised airports. When he ruled England, everyone would be able to smoke when and where they wanted. He had the decree written up in his head.

A total of thirty checks and what must have been about the same in eye rolls from James later, they were driving up the path towards Jeremy’s lighthouse. Jeremy couldn’t help but wonder where the time had gone, the day blurring into a sort of haze before his eyes, feeling as though he’d only just woken up with James’ large body unceremoniously wrapped around his own.

Time certainly did fly.

The brick of nervousness that had settled itself in his stomach the minute he’d woken and remembered what he planned to do had steadily increased in size throughout the day, until he was staring at the steering wheel of his Merc with a lump the size of a small army in his throat. He watched with wide eyes as James took in his surroundings from the windows of the car, peering out like a child on vacation as the fields and rolling hills whizzed by in a green blur until they made it close enough to the edge of the island that the water was in sight.

Jeremy, in his haste, had forgotten that he had never invited James out to the lighthouse before this, only ever mentioning it in passing, or when he planned an impromptu escape for a few days. He tried to remember what it was like to see it for the first time, to see the water stretching out as far as the eye could see, or the way the sheer _green-ness_ of it felt as though it could swallow you up. He wasn’t offended when James grew silent in the passenger seat beside him, or when he leapt from the stationary car and headed for the edge of the land.

The sounds of the water could be heard from the car where he still sat, the sting of salty air had reached his nose already, and he felt like he was home. In the quiet of the cabin, he found himself recalling a poem he’d read in one of James’ books one night, the clearly very loved book stuffed into a bookshelf in the forgotten house, now very far away in the cold and snow.

 

_As I wend to the shores I know not,_

_As I list to the dirge, the voices of men and women wreck’d,_

_As I inhale the impalpable breezes that set in upon me,_

_As the ocean so mysterious rolls toward me closer and closer,_

_I too but signify at the utmost a little wash’d-up drift,_

_A few sands and dead leaves to gather,_

_Gather, and merge myself as part of the sands and drift._

 

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Jeremy sucked in a deep breath as he opened the door and stepped out of the car. A final brush of his fingers against his denim clad leg and he was treading carefully towards James, not wanting to scare him. When he was close enough to touch the man in front of him, he delicately wound his arms under James’, and linked them across his stomach. James did not tense or frighten at the sudden contact, instead he seemed to melt into it. Jeremy tugged him backwards, enough so that he could rest his chin on James’ shoulder, his mouth level with his ear.

“Wouldn’t want you to fall in…” he all but whispered, his voice going rough as it did when he spoke in hushed tones. When James remained silent, eyes watching the ocean with the vigilance of a lighthouse keeper, Jeremy spoke again. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I knew you’d fall in love.” He could see the images appear like ink on heavy paper in his mind, the memories of the beauty that the isle offered blooming behind his eyes. He silently willed James to see what he could see, and so he spoke again, hoping his words would be enough to make the same colours erupt in James’ mind.

“The sun rises early, and you can see the pale light rip through the clouds. The way it hits the water, it’s almost tempting to just walk right in, as if it was beckoning you in.” He spoke, closing his eyes against the pinks and blues and yellows that materialized in his mind, wrapping themselves like ribbon around him and James.

He felt James’ heavy head rest itself against his shoulder, and never a man to try and fight temptation, he placed a gentle kiss against James’ temple, the faint smell of his shampoo and smoke and salt all coalescing in his olfactory senses. A soft sigh escaped James’ lips and he knew that now was the right time, never having been so sure of anything in his entire life.

A quiet whisper of ‘ _James’_ had him turning to face Jeremy, his arms falling at his sides until he lifted a single hand out towards James who took it immediately in his own. Jeremy stared at him, blue eyes meeting grey ones and he clutched at James with both his palms like a drowning man to a life raft out in the ocean below, bobbing steadily over and under the foamy surface.

It had been nearly two decades that they'd been in each other's lives, and nearly all of those years had been spent together, joined at the hip. They had met and immediately become the focal point of one another's lives, the sudden connection hitting the two men like a spark from a live wire left uncapped. They shared everything, the good, the bad, and more than often, the worse than bad, and because of that, they were inseparable.

They were grown men, and as hard as they both tried to stay away from clichés, the phrase 'soul mate' seemed to echo around in their heads an awful lot. Jeremy knew that right this moment was the perfect time for him to do it. If he'd had his way from the beginning, he'd have proposed the minute he'd met James in that stuffy little office that smelled like Andy's dog and Richard's cheap cologne.

The lighthouse was a new start for the two men. It represented both of the things they needed to function, as loath as they were to admit some of them.

James knew Jeremy wouldn't be able to survive far away from London for too long, despite what he said. Jeremy thrived on busy people and the city lights that flashed along whatever gorgeous piece of machinery he had been loaned that week. James knew that Jeremy's life revolved around his places, his favourite pubs and curry restaurants and his office and the roads that he'd torn up a thousand times and would continue to set fire to.

And in turn Jeremy knew that James needed his solitude, that he craved it more than he craved his Camel Blues from time to time. James was a quiet, solitary person and after years of trying to get adjusted to fame and fortune and the ever unfortunate 'public spotlight', he had had enough. Jeremy saw how James had functioned back in Canada, how serious he really was about solitude and so he offered his most private hideaway in the form of a lighthouse to James, held open like a wound for him to dig around in. The last piece of the puzzle that separated James and Jeremy as two separate entities, rather than one human being.

They stood on the cliff edge, the wind still buffeting around their faces. The sky had begun to grow dark, the clouds that seemed evermore in England began to roll their way across the horizon, forcing the sun to peek its way through the cracks in between them. The grass under their feet shone green and verdant, glistening from the spray below them as they both stood firmly on rocky ground.

Jeremy cleared his throat gently, and began.

"James, I've loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you in that shitty little office you were hired in." Jeremy spoke, voice going slightly wobbly as he looked up at James with watery eyes.

"What...what is this Jeremy?" James asked, fingers still clutched in Jeremy's tightly.

"This is me giving you the remaining parts of me that you haven't already stolen. This is me bearing my soul, putting my ego down and trying my damnedest to express how much I truly love you." Jeremy spoke. "This is me entrusting my entire being to you and only you, for as long as I live on this Earth. I…took you for granted for far too long, and it took me being a right bellend for both of us to realize how much we truly mean to each other. I nearly lost you in Argentina, and again in the fucking Canadian wilderness, I’m not ever losing you again."

James stared at the man still kneeling below him with wide eyes, silently waiting for him to continue, feeling his heart beating loudly against his ribcage.

Jeremy could feel the nerves he tried so desperately to hide pull themselves back up his throat until he was positive James could see it on his face. He looked down, searching for the right words to continue, the right words to show James just how much he loved him. He had planned this out, thought about what sort of declaration of love he would profess, and wasn’t surprised to find out everything he’d planned had escaped his brain the minute he’d dropped to his knee.

James' hand still remained clutched in Jeremy's grasp, his palms growing damp from grabbing at James' warm skin for so long.

James refused to take his eyes from Jeremy's, making sure he read every single thought and expression that crossed the man's face. He wanted to burn this moment into his retinas for the rest of his life, until it was the last thing he saw when he shut his eyes.

Jeremy could feel the heat from James' steady gaze as he peered up at him, watching as the wind blew his graying hair around his face. James stared at the man still kneeling below him with wide eyes, silently waiting for him to continue.

"I will never regret coming to you James, as badly as you didn't want me to. I regret why I had to come in the first place, but I'm so fucking glad I did. It lead me to you, to the real you. And I’m so desperately in love with you, I can’t think about anything other than you." Jeremy choked out, a sob threatening to overcome him.

A tear escaped James' eye and rolled down his cheek, following the path the mist unknowingly made earlier. He blinked hard, until his eyes were blurry with moisture and couldn't stop the tears from flowing freely. The vision of Jeremy below him swam until it was distorted and watery, his form becoming a blur of colour and shapes.

"So James,” Jeremy continued, aching to say the four words he had wanted to say fifteen years ago. “Will you spend the rest of your days with a broken, drunken old man who loves you with his entire being? Will you marry me?"

James was speechless for a moment, still looking at Jeremy with a mixture of shock and unyielding devotion in his eyes. He nodded slowly, breaking into a grin that threatened to split his face in two. His brow furrowed as he smiled, tears streaming steadily down his cheeks until his face was red.

"Yes, Jezza, I'll marry you. God...yes." James replied, words distorted by a mixture of laughter and sobs that tore their way from his throat at the same time. "Oh god Jeremy..." he gasped out as Jeremy stood, his knees making an alarming crunching sound as he stood face to face with James, extending the man's hand to slide the antique ring on his finger. James pulled him into a crushing hug, letting his head rest on Jeremy’s shoulder while tears continued to stream down his face.

The ring was his father's, given to him by his mother before she had passed. She told him to keep it, to keep it until the time was right to pass it on to someone he loved. If he was being honest, he always assumed it would be lost amongst the rest of his possessions, left to sit and collect dust in a box somewhere in whatever home he lived in at the moment. The minute he stepped foot on James' porch in the snow and cold and wind, he knew that the ring would never hold a speck of dirt on it again. The ring was a simple one, a thick gold band with a smooth beveled flat on the top, never engraved with anything. It would bear their initials in time, but for now it was perfect, polished gold gleaming under the steadily fading sunlight that threatened to throw the two men into darkness.

“It’s beautiful, where on Earth did you find this?” James asked through sniffles after they’d pulled apart, holding his hand out to admire the new addition.

“It was my dad’s. My mum gave it to me before she passed, and told me that I’d know when it was the right time to give it to someone.” Jeremy explained, watching fondly as James stared at the ring. “I’m glad you’re that someone…”

James didn’t reply, he was far too busy launching himself at Jeremy again, wrapping his arms around the larger man, and pressing his tear stained lips to Jeremy’s, and kissing him fiercely. They stayed joined together until their lungs screamed out for them to breathe, and so they did. With foreheads pressed together, they breathed each other in, mingled with the air around them until their lungs burned with the feeling of one another.

The sun had set and the gulls had decided to occupy another segment of the sky above, or perhaps some of the grassy land that seemed endless and yet was suddenly hidden by the darkness. The moon was bright, hanging in the sky above the land and waters below, its stark light illuminating the two men who still stood at the cliff’s edge, wrapped up in each other. James was tucked against Jeremy’s chest, his head resting against his shoulder as they swayed gently with the breeze that still lingered. They didn’t know how long they’d been standing there, only that they were together and they were happy.

It was Jeremy who eventually broke the silence.

“We should get inside, love...” He murmured in James’ ear, rubbing his arms up and down James’, the friction warming his palms. James nodded against him and they broke apart, the sudden cold filling the spaces where the other man had been pressed. They walked back to the house, lights on and waiting for them, hand in hand, squeezing palms almost simultaneously.

Before either stepped foot in the doorway of their new home, _their new beginning_ , Jeremy grinned at James.

“What?” James asked, cautiously.

“Are you sure, James?”

James furrowed his brow. “Sure about what? Going inside? Yes, Jez I’m quite sure I’d like to be in a warm house with a nice glass of wine right about now. If that’s what I assume you’re on about.”

Jeremy waved a hand between the two of them. “No you dolt. I meant…y’know, sure about…this.”

James let out a small laugh. “Trust me Jeremy, I’ve known you for twenty-odd years. Nothing you do now will surprise me any more than it may have before I had this ring on my finger. You’re safe.”

Jeremy regarded James for a moment before sighing happily, the corners of his eyes crinkling as they did when he really smiled. They could worry about jobs and homes and cars and marriage and even dinner later. It would all work out in the end anyways, regardless of what they did; Jeremy could feel it in his gut. For now, he decided, he would focus all of his attention on something much more valuable, something with a most pressing urgency, and followed James into the house, shutting the heavy red door behind him as he did.

* * *

 

 

_O baffled, balk’d, bent to the very earth,_

_Oppress’d with myself that I have dared to open my mouth,_

_Aware now that amid all that blab whose echoes recoil upon me I have not once had the least idea who or what I am,_

_But that before all my arrogant poems the real Me stands yet untouch’d, untold, altogether unreach’d,_

_Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congratulatory signs and bows,_

_With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word I have written,_

_Pointing in silence to these songs, and then to the sand beneath._

 

_I perceive I have not really understood any thing, not a single object, and that no man ever can,_

_Nature here in sight of the sea taking advantage of me to dart upon me and sting me,_

_Because I have dared to open my mouth to sing at all._

      

        

        

    

      

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more after this, folks!


	18. The End

The world outside the small windows whizzed past, blurring into varying shades of blue and green, orange and reds occasionally dotted in. He couldn’t make out anything other than faint shapes of trees that looked more like drunken oil paintings than anything. On the bits where they’d told him to slow it down, mostly the corners, he had a moment to observe his surroundings. The road he tore down was a thin one, smoothly paved despite it being in rural Sicily somewhere, trailing the coastline like the veins currently pummelling blood through his body.

He had the windows shut but still imagined he could smell the coastal air, the salty water stinging his nostrils. Opening one briefly, the smell filling the cabin of the car immediately and sharply pulled him back home, back to nights with the windows open and the breeze flowing through the room.

_When he entered the room, the amount of light spilling through the wide-open curtains surprised him a little, the cold glow only eclipsed by the figure that stood inches away from the glass. The casement window was a large one, taller than Jeremy by at least three feet; it spanned nearly the entire height of the wall that faced the ocean below them. White wood framed the clear panes, and two sheer white curtains hung on either side. Tonight, the wind blew the curtains inwards, wrapping themselves like specters around Jeremy’s body until he was nothing more than an opaque figure in the broken moonlight._

_Quietly, James stepped behind him, careful not to so much as whisper his skin against the floor as he walked. Jeremy heard nothing, still staring straight ahead into the water, watching the tide lap against the rocks that lay jagged along it’s coastline like scar tissue. He watched him, willing his mind to memorize the way Jeremy looked bathed in blue-white moonlight, the way his shoulders lay calm, not pulled tense and hunched as they normally were. He watched as the moonlight reflected in bright white off the silver metal band on Jeremy’s finger. It drew his eyes, flashing back and forth as he took deep breaths, beckoning him closer. It reminded him of the flashing light above them, white light illuminating the crests of the waves as they crashed darkly against the jagged shore. The symbolism wasn’t lost on James, Jeremy, his light who kept him safe, kept him tucked away from the world as he stood watch over the stormy seas._

_This, this right here was the Jeremy he’d fallen in love with. Pressing a tiny kiss on Jeremy’s shoulder to alert him of his presence, Jeremy turned and swept James up in his long arms, humming with amusement. The two stood there in the cold light, curtains tangled around their warm forms, until they couldn’t hear the sounds of the water meeting its shoreline any longer._

Jolting out of his ill-timed reverie, James focused again on rolling up the window, and the cameras and the very expensive piece of machinery under his control. The bloody thing roared when he put his foot down, a testament to Ferrari engineering that made his blood boil and his veins fizz. His fingers gripped the smooth wheel slightly tighter, knuckles going white as he forced his eyes to focus on the road ahead of him.

He slowed his pace when the large white tent came into view, the crew crowded around the cobblestone crescent where he’d come to a stop. His time in the La Ferrari had come to an end, and he felt a tiny jolt of sadness. The thrill of driving it was unmatched, indescribable and fleeting but it came easy in cars like that.

The only other thing that made him feel as wildly carefree was standing next to Richard, smiling widely as he stepped towards James as he stepped out of the car, hand up to shield his eyes from the sun.

“Well? How was that May?” he asked loudly, his voice clear over the throngs of people still loudly milling about. James felt his face crack in two, a huge grin giving Jeremy his answer. He placed a palm against Jeremy’s chest, willing himself to believe that the man in front of him was real, and not some adrenaline fueled hallucination.

“Jeremy?” James all but gasped, eyes wide with surprise. “Why are you here? I thought you were shooting in France for the month?” James asked, voice slightly flustered with incredulousness as he swept his gaze over Jeremy’s form. He wore a simple black shirt, buttoned halfway up leaving his collarbones and neck bare, along with his customary denim.

Jeremy chuckled, stepping forward slowly so his large frame pressed against James, forcing his back up against the Ferrari. “I finished it much faster than we’d anticipated.” Jeremy watched James’ face as he spoke, his voice dropping into a low growl that made James weak in the knees, suddenly thankful to be squashed against the million pound car. “Richard told me you’d be here filming for a few days, and you know me, I love being spontaneous.” He kissed the spot just under James’ ear that made him feel slightly drunk, and it wasn’t until Richard had yelled something about not wanting stains on the Ferrari that James pushed Jeremy away gently, remembering where they were.

James squinted his eyes knowingly at the man in front of him. “You also have a penchant for fine Italian rosé, so I’m sure your motives weren’t entirely unselfish.” James said, grinning at Jeremy who returned it, sheepishly. “I did miss you though, quite a lot. I marry the man of my dreams and he immediately flies off to film for a month…” James continued, leaning forward to kiss Jeremy, arms wrapping around him subconsciously. Again, the sound of an angry Richard Hammond broke them apart, only this time he stood beside them, hands on his hips.

“Listen you two, we’re all happy that you pulled your heads out of your arses long enough to kiss and make up, but chaps, we really don’t need to see it in such….vivid and gory detail. Get a bloody room or something.” Hammond snapped, eyebrows furrowed in mock anger.

James rolled his eyes, smiling. “Oh grow up Hammond, it was just a kiss. Honestly, both of you are insufferable. I don’t know why, or more importantly _how_ I put up with the two of you.”

“Oh c’mon James,” Jeremy replied, drawling out the syllables of James’ name in the way only he could. “You love us both!”, he exclaimed, moving forward with his lips pursed exaggeratedly, his hips swaying back and forth, making Richard gag loudly and cover his eyes.

James just shook his head and laughed.

 

* * *

 

The view from James’ hotel balcony was stunning to say the least. Overlooking the city of Palermo, they had a perfect view of the coast and the shadowy mountains that lay just behind it. James watched as the reflections of the orange city lights danced on the water’s surface, appearing more like tiny fires than the incandescent lights that they were. The sun was just about set, painting the sky a pale pink that bled into orange the closer it got to the horizon, and the warm breeze of the afternoon had remained well into the evening, playfully dancing around Jeremy and James.

The two men stood, watching the sun as it descended into the ground, arms linked together tightly. Moving his head from where it rested on Jeremy’s shoulder, James looked up at Jeremy, and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

James then broke the silence.

“Thank you for coming all this way, Jezza.”

Jeremy regarded him for a moment. “I’d go anywhere for you, you know that better than anyone.”

James just smiled and kissed him again.

They remained there, nuzzled against each other, until the darkness had enveloped the land in front of them, and the whispered plans of their future had gotten lost in the warm breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is, folks. A huge, massive thank you to those of you who stuck with this fic, over the nearly two years it's taken me to write it. It's been fun, and I'm sad to see it end, but on to new adventures! A big thank you to every individual who has taken the time to write a comment, leave a favourite or even just give it a view. Your kindness and encouragement has meant the world to me.


End file.
